


Chasing the Bullet

by PrincessNiallxHoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Gay, Guns, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Kink, M/M, Mafia AU, Maserati Abuse, Multi, Psycho!Niall, Rimming, Toys, Underage Kissing, Violence, mobster, sadist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessNiallxHoran/pseuds/PrincessNiallxHoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is the infamous shut in son of one of the biggest Mobsters in London. Louis Tomlinson is the most competent nemesis Harry's father has. However, he's low on funds and is pretty fond of the curly haired boy. The best option is to infiltrate and kidnap for ransom- get a little somethin' somethin' while he has the chance. Rating for sexual acts in later chapters. (Later meaning chapter two or so.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hookah Shisha

**Author's Note:**

> I had a little idea and ran with it. I know it's clumsy at the beginning, but I promise there should be some great things- plots and fun stuff to be had. I'd love any ideas for this related to story plot and placement.  
> S'pretty much it. Enjoy.

The generally overcast skies of London never brought Harry down. Frankly, it was every other aspect of his life that pissed on his mood and made him generally uncomfortable. Bright green eyes peered out over the dreary skyline, ears catching that familiar sound of school children making their happy way over to their local places of education. He felt that unsettling twist in his stomach and he pressed his nose into the glass a little to get a better view. They had little uniforms- symbols of where they belonged. Hazza glanced down next to him where his own uniform lay on his bed. A plain black suit with leather holsters sporting pistols to hide under the jacket. Dulling eyes were half lidded as he turned his attention back to the school children, admiring them- jealous of them and how they didn’t know anything about the mafia. They didn’t know about the underground warring between two of the largest mob bosses in all of Britain, and they probably wouldn’t care if they did.

There was a knock on the door, startling the teenager from his reverie as he turned to address the visitor with an invitation inside. He stood only in dark patterned boxers and his high black socks, but when you’re the eldest son in a family of mobsters, you learn not to really concern yourself with modesty. The family’s caretaker opened the door with a set of pursed lips and a towel over his arm- quite the image of perfection - and spoke quietly.

“Your father has switched your day’s activities. You are to eat this morning in a timely manner and make your way to the training facilities.” The man’s voice was drawn out like a proper Englishman, each syllable pronounced almost painfully strong. Paul had been in the service of the Styles’ home for over sixty years, as had his father before him. The elderly man had been born inside of the very walls, and he probably knew them better than anyone.

“Yes, Paul.” Harry watched expectantly as the man stepped out, closing the door with a deliberate slowness so it wouldn’t make a harsh sound upon closing. The teen gave a very unsatisfied expression as soon as he was alone, knowing that with physical training being his number one in the day, he wouldn’t be allowed his hours of coursework. His father believed in the unrealistic ideal that brawn conquered brain. To him, there was no other way to go about his daily life. He hated when Harry would indulge in a novel or read out of one of his school books, and he often tried to stamp out his son’s quest for knowledge at the root; driving the teen all day with physical activity so he had no energy for silly things like Poe or Shakespeare.

He dressed quickly, his tie askew and curls much more boyant than usual as he trotted down the stairs of the penthouse to get to the ‘working’ area of the large building. His father rented- or, more or less, evicted the hotel staff and had renovated the building completely. The top two floors remained as large, expensive rooms where his staff slept and lived, while the base ten had been cleared out for business, interrogation, and other various spaces that they needed for their operation. The underground parking garage was a place for target practice, and above it in the basement was the fitness area. At no point of the day was it to be empty- unless Harry was with a personal trainer.

Said personal trainer was waiting patiently for him by the entrance, checking through the list of names that had been in and out of the equipment room to keep shape. The close shaved head tilted as Harry stepped in, and they both smiled uncertainly at each other. Liam had been a fantastic university student at the wrong end of the law, and ended up jumping into the mafia as a last ditch effort to keep out of prison. He often claimed that he hadn’t committed any real crime, but all in all, Harry knew he was there for a reason. Out of all the staff in his father’s big, mucked up crime joint, Liam was his favorite, because being a bit of a dodgy genius was a plus in the heir’s book. Not only could Liam help him obtain the educational things that he wanted, it also meant that his trainor understood his thirst for knowledge.

“Good morning, Harry.” A large vest was tossed to him, and he very nearly tumbled down at the weight of it.

“Whassit?” Harry grunted, lifting it up and looking over it uncertainly. Must have weighed forty pounds! He was instructed by the ever moving Liam to put it on over his vest and buckle it.

“Seeing as how you’ll be eighteen in a week, props, by the way, your dad wants to be sure you’re physically capable. ‘M not supposed to tell ya this,” Liam looked up to a few of the various cameras and gave a wink, “but there’s gonna be a great special ceremony in your honor.” The teen just loved how his companion had totally dodged around his actual question.

The fit man began a bit of a simple cardio hop back and forth on the balls of his feet, rocking them strategically in their nike brand with the mesh shorts swishing around his knees. This was the part where Harry was to follow him, and he certainly tried. However, with a forty pound weight vest, a suit and two shoes that weren’t meant for physical activity, he grew tired quickly. Sure- it was all about being able to move and work in the outfit given, but was it always necessary?

“Will there- there be c-cake at my cere-remony?” Harry grunted out, totally winded as he was lead for a jog around the empty training room. His instructor only laughed, muttering something about how that was probably the most obscene and ironic question for the situation.

The workout was absolutely traumatizing, and he was finally sent off to his room to shower. As he emerged from the steaming water, he frowned at the freshly pressed suit waiting for him on the sink, his holster on the opposite side to ensure there was no accidental firing. Harry snatched up the suit, blinking in confusion as there was something small and rectangular poking at his fingers through the material. He withdrew a little package; two small handbooks.

_Chasing the Bullet with Cyanide; Surviving Your Chemistry Course_   
_Why Can I and Why Can’t You?; a Guide to Sociology_

Harry smiled a bit, checking the inside cover.

_‘Found these at the corner market. Thought you’d like ‘em. -Li’_  
Little educational books- barely over fifty pages each but... They were definitely the highlight of his day. Harry grinned and set them back down on the sink as he pulled on his regulated outfit. Every now and again, he’d confide in his trainer, and more often than not, Liam would give him little surprises like this. It probably helped that his birthday was getting close, but even if that was the only reason, he went about the rest of the day with a happy little skip in his step. He even felt pretty decent at dinner that evening, despite the fact that his father had joined him which usually placed him in an immediate foul mood.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his father. It was just that his father was incredibly work oriented and never really had time to talk to Harry like a normal father would. In fact, the only father-son sport that the teenager had ever done was with Liam during an accuracy exercise. (To be fair they’d been playing catch, but to get away with it, it had been labeled as something much more important-sounding.) He would only ask Hazza how training was going, or how many eggs he had eaten at breakfast. “The most important source of protein, you know. Besides your red meats.”

Harry spoke pleasantly of the weight training he had done with Liam, and of course the boxing that was essential to any mobster’s daily routine. It appeased his father well enough that he even praised his son and gave him a clap to the shoulder before leaving the dinner table for business. Physical contact wasn’t necessarily encouraged, so it swelled the teen’s pride just a bit to be considered for such activity.

Once back upstairs, Harry slipped from his tight suit and holsters, enjoying the freedom of not having to deal with their restrictions. He set the holster and pistol in his nightstand, as always, and tossed the suit to the laundry where Paul would take it away for washing in the morning.

A glance to the clock informed him that it was only about seven in the evening. This was quite frustrating; to be done with his day already, but as his father always told him “early to bed and early to rise makes your trigger finger twice as ready”. The teenager pulled on his flannel bottoms, printed fashionably with pinstripes (as if that wasn’t overdone) before resting back in bed to take a look at the new presents Liam had left him.

The nightlife in London was beginning soon, Harry mused quietly as he glanced over a line about what sort of materials can hold chemicals with a high acidic number. The cars were beginning to pile up the streets with bright lights and horns, making it harder and harder to concentrate on the text ahead of him. He stood, intent on switching on his stereo to try and drown out the noise but- that was sort of when he happened. The teenager paused, eyes catching some movement down on the roof of a building across from his window. It wasn’t too much lower, perhaps only one or two stories- but the man was stunning. He wasn’t large, by any standard. Petite, small hands and feet, but put together nicely. Like a Ken doll with a slight defect, so he wasn’t perfect, yet you got him on your birthday so he’s the best doll you’ve seen.

Harry crept forward, pressing his nose gently against the glass, mirroring his position from that morning almost perfectly. The man was suited up, just like he himself was every day, and even had a little designed patch of some significance on his left breast. From the distance, it looked to be a mucky brown color. He was surveying the hotel, Harry noticed quickly, picking up the way the stranger’s brows furrowed and lips pursed as he eyed the windows adjacent. It seemed to be someone from his own corporation, Harry thought quietly, maybe checking for damages to the building; however he’d never seen the man in his life. A stiffening in the stranger’s frame gave away that something had altered, and it came to pass that he felt watched. Suddenly, two eyes flicked up suddenly, a piercing blue that Harry could make out through the light of the falling sun. The teen felt a little shocked, wondering how he’d been pinpointed immediately, but it didn’t seem to bother the man on the adjacent roof. A finger pressed to his thin lips, requesting silence from the boy hidden away in his room, and then he left.  
Harry assumed he trotted down some sort of fire escape, because most human men can’t just walk to a corner and hop off the twentieth story of a building but- it was mysterious and sort of surreal. The teen realized he was even more attached to the window than he had been prior, (what that strange must think of him!) so he promptly unstuck himself and took a few steps back. He couldn’t explain it, but a weird burst of intrigue and fear shot through him, and he returned to bed to try and catch some rest.

The next morning occurred similarly to the last. Harry woke bright and early, Paul told him his day would consist of nothing but physical activity, and Liam again slipped him a little present tucked away in his jacket.

_What to Expect When You’re Expecting_

_‘This one’s a bit more of a joke, Hazzer. Felt bad I didn’t have anything better for ya. -Li’_

Despite the relative normalcy in his day, Harry was stopped by a very unfamiliar looking guard. He was young- didn't look very trained or refined like most of the other guards- and was displaying a different uniform to boot. Honestly, Liam was probably the youngest worker they had there, and he looked more in place with his basketball shorts and nikes than this man did in a suit and tie. He was bronze skinned and unshaven, which was a strict no, and he had a strange crest on his left pec that Harry thought looked oddly familiar. The man, probably in his early twenties- if that- stopped the heir of the Style's corporation with a soft smile and a lift of his hand.

"Hello there, Master Styles. I'm Malik." He spoke easily, and Harry recognized the Middle Eastern sounding name and respectfully tacked it on with a relation to his skin tone. The curly teen nodded and gave a smile, dimple and all. After all, this new man had given him no reason to be upset- nor was he fond of treating new people as if they didn't count. It was something gathered from his mother, God rest her, rather than his father. Malik stood a little off center, one knee bent and the other further from his body in a very relaxed pose- another thing Harry was unused to when it came to the men that worked for his father.

"Aye." Harry responded very simply, getting ready to move on with his daily routine, which was now only filled with eating dinner before bedtime. That time would most likely be spent considering the strange man who had dappled the rootop across his street the day before, but that would be left unthought of until the teenager was actually laying down for bed. He took a total of two steps before the new worker stopped him.

"Your father hired me to take care of you and prepare you for your coming of age. I hear you'll be eighteen in a little over five days. Is that correct?" The other's tongue was quick, and his tone held an accent that wasn't from around London. In fact, it was very thick and Harry could easily pinpoint him as being bred somewhere around the Bradford area. The heir turned slowly and gave Malik a curious look, tilting his head like an uncertain animal.

“That’s right. Okay? Is uh- Is there something I am to do, or somewhere I should be?" Harry questioned, his brow furrowing. No one had told him about there being a new guard- well, he supposed, that wasn't anything supremely abnormal. It wasn't like he was the first to be alerted of anything, though usually if it concerned him directly he was given the littlest of heads up. The man gave a nod, and also made a motion for the teenager to come closer. There was something very friendly about the action- it wasn't practiced. It wasn't something that he would expect from the military like his father's men would beckon him with. Haz took a few confident steps, and was incredibly confused when the young adult leaned down and sniffed him. Sniffed. Inhaled. Took a great whiff of him and then leaned back for consideration. Harry just stared dumbly, not entirely sure what that interaction was about before he started as though to speak.

"You've had your shower then," Malik began cutting him off and tapping his fingers softly on his pant leg as though it was unexpected for the teen to have moved through his routine so quickly, "go to your room and relax a moment. I will be up shortly to dress you. Then you are to prepare to go out." With that, the man turned on a dime- quite casually- and walked away. Harry was incredibly confused, especially about that bit of 'going out'. He was very rarely allowed outside, unless it was out in the back of the above ground garage in which he could move about close to the open sides and catch a good breeze. In fact, he wasn't allowed to go outside at all. His father deemed it too dangerous, not wanting anything to happen to the heir of his business; figuring his son would be too easily swept away with fashion and the new media culture.

Even so, the teenager didn't question it. Something about the cool authority that this darker skinned man had over him eased his mind and sent him walking - almost casually himself- back up to his bedroom. He did as he was told, laying out on his bed and looking through the gag book Liam had snuck him. What to Expect when You're Expecting, huh? He thumbed through the pages, reading about vitamins and how much exercise is too much for your baby. The lad had a good chuckle and took his phone (rarely used, though it contained numbers for key guards and his father) and texted the trainer that he had gotten a nice laugh. A few moments later, there was a short pair of knocks at his door, and Harry stuffed his book back into his night stand before giving whomever it was clearance to enter. It was his new guard who gave him a nod and a friendly wave. There was a smile about his lips, and until that point, Harry didn't quite understand what a contagious smile was.

"Hey there, Harry. I'd like to take a peek in your closet. Surely you've got something other than your suits and ties hanging up, right?" There was a little chuckle accompanying his words, but Harry took that moment to drop his smile and look a little uncertain. Malik frowned, tilting his head with an incredulous expression. "No?" He strode to the teenager's large wardrobe, peeling it open to see hangar after hangar of suits and sleeping clothes. These suits hadn't even been worn, and were more for show to make him feel just a little better upon opening his massive wardrobe. Paul had all of his real ins and outs in his own laundry area. The suits hiding away were more backup than anything else.

Harry couldn't help that little twinge of disappointment that spread through him at the fact that he didn't have anything for going out in. What had he needed it for anyway since he was never allowed outside? The teen bit his lip and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders before Malik shook his head a bit and moved to stand before the younger boy's bed. What was going to happen now? Were they going to have this really odd, casual staring match or-?

"Get up then. We'll just have to purchase an outfit for you this evening." It was a simple statement, but it was rushed, "come along. I've set the meeting for twenty minutes from now, assuming you had proper attire. He mustn't be left waiting or we'll all be sorry." Two tan hands rushed together to clap twice, and Harry was immediately up and toeing into his proper shoes to follow Malik anywhere he was taken. They spent a long awkward while in the elevator together, where Harry merely twiddled his thumbs and the elder had that goddamn casual expression that was constantly maintained. It didn't help that it was just like every other elevator- filled with the smooth jazz of a bookstore- and Harry could only take so much Louis Armstrong before he was ready to burst. Then it was time for the golden moment. Outside. The teenager was now nearly stumbling over himself. Could it have been true that he, a nearly eighteen year old boy had never been outside? If he had tried to remember, he would know he’d been allowed outside with his mother regularly, but that was so long ago that it didn't register in his mind that it had happened at all. And despite his doe like desperation as he stared wide eyed around him, he couldn't admire the tall buildings and bustling street taxis for long. Malik was already tugging at him and murmuring that he needed to pick up his pace.

For what?

Harry was lead into one shop just down the street- quite a pricey one, he thought, according to the price tags on the articles and the looks of the people inside. It seemed a fitting place to buy a decent night-time outfit in. As it would seem, not only was Malik a competent body guard of sorts, he was also quite a knowledgeable fashion expert. He had pressed Harry into stall after stall to find him something that fit over his lanky body and squeezed lovingly over the little curves he possessed. Some of these items had weird clasps, 'eye and loops', that his tan attendant had to teach him to buckle. By the time the rush was over, Harry was totally exhausted and they barely had time to meet whomever it was they were supposed to see. If nothing else, though, The teenager felt stunning. He had never known jeans to be made so tight, and the dipping quarter sleeved shirt with buttoned blazer put out everything he never knew he had on display. Malik had even gone as far as to set him up with two silver necklaces that dangled just below his neckline and accentuated his broad, slender torso.

"Now-," began his chief fashion advisor, "we have to hit up a taxi." This was another incredibly new thing to Harry. The only cars he was used to were the ones his father owned that carted him back and forth from meeting to meeting. He'd never been in one himself, but he'd seen them in the garage before. Now Malik was standing halfway in the street, trying to hail some sort of yellow mini-bus to hopefully get them some sort of transportation. It was overwhelming, and Harry was considering trying to take a few steps back to offer a car from his own institution when a large, rickety yellow car came stuttering up to the sidewalk. The teenager eyed it uncertainly before he was being ushered inside, his nose scrunching at the smell of cigarettes and- something else he couldn't place. His companion gave the driver the address and sat with a hunch beside Harry, ever relaxed in any situation.

"What's that smell?" Harry finally had the courage to ask, peering over to the man beside him. The elder gave a little shrug and a deep inhale before answering bluntly.

"Stale sex, if you ask me."

The response startled him a little, and to be frank, it seemed quite unprofessional. Then again, this was the most casual mafia member he’d ever met and- perhaps that was just his style. Even so, Harry wasn’t really all that comfortable with sexuality, having never been able to figure out his own, and as such tried to arch himself off the seat as much as possible. 

It was safe to say that the teenager stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. He hadn't expected such an answer, and since learning that smell- well. He decided he didn't want to learn much of anything else. Malik seemed to understand, because instead of pressing the subject or even teasing about it, he peered out of the clouded taxi window at the bustling streets of London. It was only a five minute ride, but to Harry, it was at least three times that long.

It didn’t help that when they arrived at their destination, it wasn’t all that attractive. It was pretty scummy and dirty, and Harry was beginning to grow conscious that this place was probably going to give him cancer of some sort. Harry peered out of the dirty cab window, frowning at the sign on the building as well. The words ‘Hookah Cafe&Lounge’ were written in tall and draping golden letters, accompanied by some sort of middle eastern text on each side. He recognized cafe and lounge from an average vocabulary- but what in the name of christ was Hookah? He couldn’t consider it any longer as he began to scramble, realizing that Malik had already climbed out of the taxi and was waiting for him.

Upon stepping inside, Harry was blasted with a thick puff of smoke that had an odd twinge of strawberries and bananas. It was strange, not what he had expected any smoke to smell like in all of his days, and he quickly scrunched his nose and lifted his hand to fan it away. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to keep them clean when he noticed his companion and an attendant chuckling. It took a moment before Harry realized it didn’t fill his lungs and make him burn up, like usual smoke, and he felt a little intimidated. This was a world that he knew nothing about, and it made him uncomfortable that everyone else did.

“Come on.” Malik finally murmured, reaching to nudge the teenager ahead of him. He was lead through a few different rooms, many of them filled to the brim with hip teenagers sucking on intricate pipes. There were so many different smells and tastes in the air that Harry didn’t quite know what was going on anymore. He was dazed and uncertain, his brow furrowed as they shifted deeper into this sleeping dragon. Finally, he was lead to a dead end that consisted of a large leather sofa and a man spread across it in the picture of relaxation. Again, the teen batted away the smoke, wanting to see what he was approaching when two blue eyes pierced him quite violently.

It was the same man from the roof the night before. Something about all of this seemed very odd, but with the continuous haze and overwhelming amount of new sights and smells, Harry couldn’t really piece together why. Whoever it was sat up and ran a finger through short brown hair with a very comforting smirk on his features while the delicate fingers of an opposite hand patted the place next to him. Malik had to nudge the confused youth for a moment before he realized the spot was for him.

“So you’re Harry,” the voice was light, though it held a very commanding authority and Harry was quick to sit down as though to not upset it, “and you’ll be coming of age very soon?” It was weird- how conversational all of this was. Wasn’t this supposed to be a lesson? Yet here he was in some sort of stinky fireman’s house wondering why the air smelled like fruit while wearing a totally new outfit and being well aware of what taxi cab sex smelt like.

“Yeah. Five days or so.” He murmured, not really remembering what day it was any longer. He couldn’t even check the calendar by his bed, which was a very serious first for him. The stranger nodded and picked up a long pipe from the decorative bong, taking a long drag from it before letting it go.

“This is called Hookah Shisha.” He stated, completely driving off topic, and Harry couldn’t help but feel as though he should be interested. After all, this man had such a commanding tone that he felt wrong to ignore it. It was almost as though the thought of command alone had the younger inching in to listen.

“It’s flavored wet tobacco. Very nice and smooth.” He moved the pipe to Harry’s cherry lips, pressing it past them with a lick to his own mouth as if there was something far less innocent occurring in his mind. Harry didn’t necessarily want the pipe in his mouth, or the idea that he may get addicted to this substance somehow, but his complaints died down a bit in the back of his mind. Instead, he listened intently to the direction of the stranger, inhaling and trying desperately to ignore the burning in his lungs. The taste of berries kept him relatively relaxed though, and once he had taken a few successful hits, the pipe was taken away. Harry felt a little light headed, not really having ever felt his air cut off by smoke, or having even been outside, for Christ’s sake. But as long as those blue eyes conducted him, it was alright in his book. They sat a while longer, relaxed as the strange man told him quite random things such as his favorite color, red, requesting the same from Harry, blue or pink. It was a bit of a long and tedious discussion, but the teen was too lost in this strong personality to question it.

They talked about books and animals, though the man very rarely gave out extra information about himself, whereas he would ask for more details from Harry. ‘You like practical books? I’m a fan of fiction myself. What are you reading currently? Does your father have a library for you?’ It was odd, but Harold was eager to give up all this information, wanting to please this strong individual. At one point, a small hand reached out, two fingers gently touching at the defined jawline the younger possessed, tilting him here and there. A finger traced over the line of his bottom lip, and when he attempted to speak, he was hushed. The smoke flitted around them, keeping Harry aware of the man before him and nothing else. There was a very intense moment when thin lips approached, diverting from Harry’s face to the shell of his right ear, mouthing over the tender skin and- God was he ever holding his breath when...-

SNAP~ He was brought out of his reverie by a loud snap that came from the king himself.

“Zayn. Come here.” Malik approached the two on the couch, brow quirked at the informal use of, what Harry guessed, was his first name. The leader of the operation pulled the tan skinned man down by his tie, hovering close and whispering a few orders against the shell of his ear. A few moments later, a very confused and relaxed teenager was being tugged up off the couch and lead away through the twisting and winding halls of the hookah house.

“But his name,” Harry began, not struggling too hard thanks to the calm atmosphere of the place that he hadn’t noticed until now, “I didn’t get his name.”

He was only deterred when Malik- err- Zayn, promised he would be seeing the man again soon. Content for now, Harry rode along quietly in a new taxi, relieved that there was less of a stale smell.

It was almost disappointing to see his companion walk away, ever casual, from the doors where the guards were to intercept the boss’ son. They asked the usual questions, ‘did they hurt you?’ ‘did they keep professional?’. Even for training with Liam this was a regular event. Despite the obvious un professionalism and odd activity that really resulted in him learning nothing, Harry wanted nothing more than to see that commanding man again; he nodded, promising that everything was up to spec before returning to his room.

It was late when he finally changed into his sleeping clothes, and he made quick work of heading to the window, pressing his nose against the glass to see if he had a roof top visitor. He wasn’t surprised when no one was pacing, but it did make a his stomach flop disappointedly.


	2. Yes Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis calls Harry to have a beautiful dinner with him in an exotic restaurant. A bit of smut in here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the second bit- I know it's not as long and I'm sorry! But for the stopping point- I thought it was alright.

January was steadily coming to a close as the dawning of each new day passed Harry in a bit of a daze. There were only three more days till the first of February, and Zayn hadn’t come back yet. He tried not to let his disappointment seep too far into him, but at the breakfast table with his bacon and boiled eggs, he couldn’t help but feel a tad forgotten. The rest of the place hadn’t though. They were up in arms over being sure to wish the teenager a happy birthday, just in case they weren’t around to say it on the first. Apparently they were more fond of him around there than he knew.

Liam had gifted him with a real novel, cleared with the staff so it wasn’t hidden away in his jacket, and the teenager felt his spirits skyrocket for the first time in a few days. This book series had become somewhat of a phenomenon- or at least, Harry guessed by the response he got from his trainer when he asked. _The Hunger Games_ had received awards, Liam had told him matter of factly while he taught the younger a specific way to guard in the ring. There had been films made, and there were three books in total. Harry was ecstatic with his new gift, and he had spent all afternoon reading and enjoying it.

The morning of the twenty-ninth dawned, and the teenager was woken quite early to three distinct raps on his door. He sat up with a yawn and a stretch, scratching at his rib cage through his sleep shirt before calling out raspily that it was open. Half of him hoped that it was Zayn coming to collect him to spend a day outside, but half of him was also angry at the fact that the Arabic man hadn’t come back for him sooner. Despite his inner conflict, he stifled a groan of disappointment when it was only Paul, poking his head inside to tell him it was time to get moving, where his clothes were, etc. The teen grumbled as the elderly man bowed his head and took a step out, shutting that damn door slowly and deliberately.

This was not going to be his day; he could feel it.

It was pretty innocent at first. He was allowed his course books for the first time in days and he took advantage of reading about logarithms and other bits of algebra in his maths book, following it up with about half of the little Sociology book Liam had gifted him a few days prior. Overall, it had been a pretty decent morning, but there was an unsteady feeling in the air that had the teenager feeling awkward and unsettled.

Soon after lunch, he was sent to meet with Liam, and even that was more mild than usual. There were no forty pound vests or intense boxing sessions which made Harry wonder if perhaps his trainer was feeling the odd lull in the air as well. Perhaps everyone was just unsettled because the young man would be hitting his eighteenth birthday in just three days. With the secret Li had told him, they were probably just busy with setting up his ceremony. Harry was also feeling a tad impatient for that as well. Not much happened to him with the safety inside the walls, so a great big shindig was probably the most exciting thing - ever.

That was at least until the knock on the door after his evening bath when he was getting dressed for dinner. He buttoned his white undershirt with long nimble fingers, undressed aside from his boxers and socks, and called out for whoever it was to enter. His excitement was probably unnecessary as an unshaven face peeked through the door, skin tan and expression as casual as a New Yorker eating a hotdog.

“Zayn!” Harry’s face lit up like a firecracker and the guard gave a low chuckle at the enthusiasm. There was something about the activity that he’d been brought on the time before that encouraged the young man to keep quiet about his strange new friend. For some reason, he doubted his father would like Zayn bringing him to a hookah bar to meet someone who was really very good at crawling around on the roof. (The fact that this wasn’t strange to him probably should’ve bothered him more than it did.)

He was instructed to wear the outfit they had bought on their last outing, and Zayn was quick to retrieve it from the closet so Harry could change. There was no privacy offered, and the younger couldn’t say he was phazed. Within a few minutes, they were out on the streets, hailing another taxi cab with Curly on his toes to see as much as he could when he had the chance.

“Where are we going, Zayn?” Harry asked curiously, nose pressed against the taxi window as he watched the outside with extreme curiosity. “I didn’t like the Hookah very much.” He added chattily, content to talk until the other man was tired of him.

“My employer has asked for your presence at dinner this evening.” The voice was fluid and unamused, and Harry was beginning to wonder if Zayn was rather like the guards that stood watch over Buckingham Palace. He turned to face his calm companion and waved a hand out slowly in front of the unmoving face. The teen found out that Zayn indeed did move, and quite fast as the elder had reached out with rapid precision, grabbing tightly around the youth’s slender wrist. Harry whimpered, face contorting to that of discomfort as the other quickly dropped his hand and made a few rapid apologies.

“Sorry- startled me. Didn’t mean to-. You okay?” It hadn’t really hurt so much as it had scared the living shit out of the curly boy. He peeked to his wrist, noting the little red handprint which Zayn was now expecting with very gentle, troubled fingers.

“Yeah-,” Harry began, watching the other man’s face as it turned from nervous to something a little less, “I guess I just wanted to check your accuracy.” It was a lie, but a teasing one, and it coaxed a little chuckle out of the elder, which made everything a little less tense as the teeanger took his arm back and grinned reassuringly. All in all, Harry had learned a very valuable lesson. Zayn was, in fact, very in tune with the things around him.

A few minutes of comfortable silence later resulted in the car pulling up adjacent to a surprisingly nice building that had an image of a shark etched in details of red and black against the side. Harry’s eyes widened as he eagerly followed Zayn, wondering what this place could possibly be. They stepped in through the massive doors, the youth’s eyes looking as though they were about to pop from his head, and Zayn appearing like the coolest guy ever with his hands tucked into his front pockets.

“This is Futomaki Den.” Zayn explained quietly, cool and determined despite the lanky ball of energy beside him that looked ready to dart off and touch everything. All the tables and bars around them were made of a dark wood, finished and very shiny. There were crystal and jade statues from wall to wall on dark wooden shelves, and the walls themselves were made from a thick papery substance. It was all absolutely stunning, and off in a corner of the large lobby, there was a beautiful woman playing some sort of many stringed instrument. Before the Arabic man even knew what was happening, the Curly teen was off asking the woman what it was.

“Harry!” He yelped, trotting after the boy despite the irritated look in the attendant’s eye at the desk. Zayn had pulled the younger away from the Geisha who was smiling and giggling at the Curly’s enthusiasm, scolding him for running off. Thank God no one outside really knew what the teen looked like or something terrible could’ve already happened.

“‘M Sorry.” Harry murmured, shrinking a little away from the smaller man. He hadn’t meant to run off- it was just- it was all so thrilling! He was corralled quickly by the strong tan hands and was being lead, once more, through quite a few halls to a back room where the mysterious man would probably be waiting.

Indeed, there were those beautiful blue eyes staring brightly back at him.

The enigma of a human being was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a short table that only came up to his waist or so. He wasn’t wearing shoes, instead sporting a pair of white socks with an indent between the toes. Aside from that, the man was fitting in with the restaurant himself by the dark blue robe wrapped around his shoulders, a thin white robe underneath. The teenager’s eyes widened and he bit his lip, looking a little curious and amazed at the picture before him. A blue eyed beauty hiding in the Orient.

“Zayn- get him dressed.” The fluid voice penetrated the air like a lovely disease, those blues never leaving Harry’s uncertain greens.

There was a very unsettling moment where Zayn led the younger into a very strange restroom, requesting Harry to undress. There was no modesty, only genuine curiosity as the curly male stripped down to his boxers and allowed his companion to dress him. The atmosphere was cool, miniature blossoming trees on the shelves. Harry’s robe was in tones of blue with accented pink cherry blossoms rising from the base. Just the colors he had described to the other man a few days prior.

“As requested.” Malik’s voice was low and intent as he nudged Harry out of the restroom and towards the lounging man on the floor. A whispered, ‘go sit’ was pressed into the air behind him, and the youth took it as a hint. He sat on his knees across the table from the calm stranger, folding his hands in his lap politely.

“Good evening, Harry,” the smooth voice began, a cheshire smile creeping over his mouth, “you look lovely.” Harry felt an odd sensation creeping down his spine, but his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding- it was hard to utter a reply under such circumstances. The other didn’t seem upset, but his lips did purse a moment in that smile.

“The proper reply to a compliment is ‘thank you’, Harry.”

“Th-Thanks. Thank you.” The younger didn’t expect the stuttering from the back of his throat, but it didn’t seem to matter. The other man was smiling freely again.

“You’re very welcome, Harry. Why are you so far away? Come and sit next to me, little one.” Despite their difference in stature with the other man being the ‘little one’, Hazza didn’t comment and only nodded, moving to kneel beside the other. He couldn’t help but frown curiously as a woman dressed similarly to the koto player padded in with a plate of sushi. She said a few things in thickly accented English, garnishing the plate with some leafy greens before bowing and walking out.

The curly teen had been so fixated on the beautiful woman that he hadn’t noticed the man next to him taking up a pair of chopsticks and holding up a sushi to his parted red mouth. Harry gave a little gasp at the touch of the cool nori before he ate up the fishy food, humming at the intricate flavor. They spent a few moments like this- nearly intimate- of the man feeding the younger very expensive, very yummy sushi. Finally, the plate was empty and Haz was getting very sleepy from his full tummy.

He was incredibly comfortable, even more so when the stranger’s arm darted out around his waist and tugged him in a little closer, encouraging the younger onto his backside with his shoulders against the stranger’s chest. Harry gave a little relaxed sigh as he felt a small hand drift through his hair, finding the gentle action completely acceptable. It didn’t seem strange at all, despite the fact that he was snuggling up against an older man he still didn’t know the name of. The teen frowned, head tilting back to confront those piercing blue eyes.

“Is there something the matter, Harry?”

“Yeah. It’s just- I dunno your name. I mean, you know mine, so can you tell me yours?” The man behind him seemed to contemplate, his hand shifting out of the younger’s hair and now drifting down his neck and over his shoulder that was a little more exposed from his position and ruffling of his robe. After a moment, he rested his chin to the curly lad’s shoulder, a little smirk marking his features.

“Do you really want to know?” The husked tone in the breath against his ear sent a shudder down his spine. He did want to know- very very much- because this stranger had fascinated him for days now... He considered that he should be terrified, but he didn’t feel the adrenaline rush from fear- only a strong resonating beat of intrigue.

“Yes.” Harry responded, giving a little gasp as the man behind him pressed open the top of his robe, drawing little patterns against his new pet’s chest. The teen was absolutely speechless now, feeling his heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t like he didn’t recognize the twisting in his abdomen for arousal, but he didn’t really understand how to respond to it. He hissed softly however when four crescent moons were pressed into his skin.

“Yes what, Harry? What do we say when we want something?” The younger didn’t expect the sharp tug of fingernails over his collarbone, but he didn’t waste time in paying his manners forward.

“P-Please, please. W-We say please.” The nails stopped, and Harry gave a little sigh of relief, though that relief was short lived as the hand had slipped under his arm now, a better angle to slink lower against his chest. A cool finger slinked past his nipple, pushing the robe away as though it were annoying to him before exposing the other similarly. The teen felt his breath coming a little faster now.

“That’s very good, Harry.” The fingers stroked over again and again, teasing his nipples with chilled fingertips. “If you want to know my name, then you’ll sit very patiently until I tell you.” This made him shudder, his brows furrowing. He was easy enough to convince though, not wanting to disappoint anyone, especially this guy. It was like some sort of spell was hovering over him- making him misty.

“Alright.” The fingernails returned, causing the youth to hiss in disgruntled surprise.

“Alright _sir_.” The man corrected him quickly, lips now pressing against the side of Harry’s neck.

“Si-Sir.” Harry responded, his eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head to allow the other’s mouth on his skin. It was surreal- this moment- everything felt as though he wasn’t quite there to feel it. Soon, fingers were slipping lower, entering from below his belt, rather than above. The elder’s index and middle fingers stroked languidly up his leg, from knee to upper thigh, a low chuckle against the strong neck as Harry felt his thighs shake from the attention.

“Do you touch yourself, Harold?” The voice husked, shifting down to the junction of his neck and shoulder where he began to nip and suck, leaving a dark red mark. The youth was about to jump out of his skin.

“Yes.” He answered, despite the flush appearing on his cheeks from the intimate question. To be fair, the curly teen almost expected the dull fingernails to drive harshly into his upper thigh, but when they did, he was still gasping.

“S-Sir. Yes sir.” Harry corrected himself this time, enjoying the approving noise that was uttered against his little companion’s shoulder. Then it happened. The cool fingers that had teased him so relentlessly were now pressing gently against the front of his boxers, touching and rubbing slowly. Green eyes squeezed shut as a low moan was emitted from the boy below, hips squirming into the touch.

“Do you like it when I touch you here?” The voice behind him had grown deeper, developed an even more commanding tone, if that was even possible. Harry gave a little nod, responding in a rush with a ‘yes sir’ before the nails had a chance to mark him in such a private area. He felt the smile against his skin as a hand slipped into the front of his boxers, drawing out his hard shaft amidst the trembles.

“Do you want to know my name?” The hand began to stroke up and down Harry’s shaft slowly, a nimble thumb rubbing against the slick slit at the tip. The teen shuddered and nodded, a groan escaping before a little ‘yes sir’ followed. That smile pressed against his shoulder again, the hand speeding up as his little guest writhed under his ministrations.

“Yes sir-! Y-yes please!” Another approving grunt against his skin before the hand sped up, tugging and pushing the foreskin to stimulate the desperate teen. Every so often, that thumb would dip into the now leaking hole, rubbing in quick mini circles before disappearing down the shaft again.

“My name,” the voice husked against his ear, stroking faster and faster and Harry was right on the verge of release, “is Louis.”

“ _L-Louis_!” Harry’s voice echoed through the back room, his hips bucking almost desperately into the hand as he splattered his robe and belly with thick ropes of cum. There was a sense of satisfaction in his tummy as he felt Louis card his fingers through the curly hair, easing him down from his sexual high. He felt warm and relaxed as he basked softly against the man whose name he finally knew, cock softening as he was tucked back in.

Before he had any real idea of what was happening, he was being lifted and lead back to the resting area by Louis himself, told to clean up and redress. The elder was gone before his mind could even recognize what was happening, and instead Zayn stood by the door, looking a little awkward. That guard had been standing there that whole time- hadn’t he? Harry bit his lip, pulling on his original outfit after dabbing his own release up with a paper towel, his whole body feeling like mush.

When they returned to the main room, Louis was gone, as was the plate that had the sushi he’d been so luxuriously fed. He felt himself feeling a little disappointed, missing that warmth he’d felt so strongly during their intimate moment. A flush rose to his cheeks as Zayn lead him outside to a waiting taxi.

“Did you enjoy your evening?” The tan man asked him quietly, brown eyes watching every movement the curly teen made. He wasn’t as chatty as he’d been on the way to the sushi restaurant, instead just very glazed. The green eyes flicked curiously to brown before a smile struck gently.

“Yeah. I’m really happy to know his name.” Harry’s response was definitely a happy one, and Zayn was relieved that the kid wasn’t broken or something terrible. Haz let out a soft sound of happiness, relaxing against the seat and staring outside the window. The rest of the ride was incredibly relaxed, and when the younger was intercepted by the guards, he didn’t feel intimidated or upset at all. He was more relaxed than ever, able to drift off to sleep with a fond smile on his lips.

//

“I want him.” Louis’ voice over Zayn’s cell phone was harsh, though demanding. The middle eastern man had tried to talk him out of it. ‘Styles Corp isn’t a place you want to mess with, Tommo’, ‘they’ve got too many men for you to pull it off’, ‘reconsider’.

“I don’t give a shit what you’ve seen. They won’t take a step with a barrel pressed against those curls.” Zayn winced at the decisive tone on the other end. When Louis wanted something, he wanted it, and more often than not there was no denying him. If you couldn’t beat him, you had to join him, otherwise there was a knife in your thigh for insubordination.

“How do you propose I get him for you.” It was a bored sounding statement, not a question, and he was well aware that the other man wasn’t happy with his tone. No matter. Zayn was a constant and his companion would get over it.

“Get close to him. Spend time with him over the next two days. Make it certain that you’re invited to his ceremony. Then sweep him away during the reception. Bring him _here_.” That tone meant there was no question, and in consideration of that, the employee only agreed and hung up. He had two days now, and as he clambered out of the taxi and into his small apartment, he realized that something a lot more serious had been set into motion with the visit to the Japanese restaurant. Something a lot more serious that he was certainly not ready to deal with.


	3. Worst Day, Bar None

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Harry's been kidnapped and brought to Louis' place where he meets a somewhat psychopathic new character. Hope it's enjoyable. It's probably just shit but- I tried! :D

Zayn had been over twice now since the visit to the restaurant. He had taken Harry out to eat and to just walk around, keeping casual and broad as always. The kid had never seen so much of the outside, and he was beginning to feel as though he’d never get sick of it. His father had been surprisingly supportive of his excursions. They were lovely, of course, but- what Harry really wanted was to see Louis. He asked the exotic man often about Louis, but the answer was usually the same. “S’not my life. You’ve gotta ask him.” How was Harry supposed to ask if he never saw the mysterious bastard again?

Not to mention that intimate hand job. The following nights had Harry from one end of his bed to another, pulling off to the memory as his toes curled and knuckles bled from biting. Liam had even noticed a change in his attitude. He was more uppity, which the trainer associated with the visits outside, and therefore more willing to train.

The eve of his birthday saw Harry and Zayn sprawled out together on a blanket in the Styles’ compound’s garden. They were eyeing the stars in comfortable silence, a bag of skittles between them. Somewhere in the wooded area around them, an owl gave a loud hoot, and it startled the younger a bit. He was still a little unused to the outside and all of its sounds, but the other man thought it funny. Malik laughed quietly, popping some more candy in his mouth as Harry dissolved into giggles.

“Shut up, Zayn.” He muttered playfully, reaching out a long leg to nudge his friend. That was what he was, right? A friend? Not like Liam who was more like a father than a companion. A real friend that didn’t order him around (relatively speaking) or yell at him if he screwed up. They could laugh and joke; they could fall into long stories and laughing fits that lasted a long time.

“Sorry, sorry.” Zayn was a man of very few words. He really didn’t like talking all that much, but he loved to listen. The curly boy was incredibly fascinating. He had loads of memories of playing with his mom and sister outside as a child, but after his mom had passed, he rarely saw his sister. She was living, but a very different person. Gemma, he’d called her. Harry also enjoyed light sports, like table tennis and table hockey. His lucky number was forty and if he could have a cat, he’d be the happiest boy in the world. This kid didn’t belong under Louis’ roof.

“N’ah. I’ll get over it,” Harry began, munching on some skittles, “too nice a night to be grumpy.” Those dimples smiled over at Zayn and he felt a crushing sense of guilt in his chest even though he nodded in agreement. He ran a tan hand through his hair, watching the black sky as the curly boy wriggled around next to him. The curly boy whose dad hated his hair when he was little, keeping it short and manageable. The curly boy who hadn’t seen a real butterfly in a decade.

“We should probably get inside, Harry.” He mumbled quietly, eyes flicking to the younger who was quick to give an impertinent whine. The teen rolled onto his side, staring up at Zayn with wide, childlike eyes.

“I don’t wanna.” He mumbled, lips curling into a distressed pout that the elder found impossible to resist and or deal with over the past week. A stirring in his chest reminded him that the next day he’d be kidnapping the same little smiling boy that had trusted him so deeply. He reached out, cupping the dimpled cheek with a large hand.

“You’ve got to get ready for your ceremony tomorrow.” He stated simply, and Harry grumbled a little.

“Will Louis be there? I know I told you to invite him...” The urgency in those green eyes made Zayn very uncomfortable.This kid didn’t know what he was fucking with. He ran a thumb over the high cheekbone a moment, knowing how distressed Harry would be upon finally going to bed.

“He can’t make it. Business.” He murmured in response, eyelashes hitting the soft skin of the cheek bone as Harry looked down in disappointment. He let out a little mumbling “oh” before finally sitting up. There was a tense moment of silence before the kid looked to his guard who was still sprawled on the blanket.

“Well, you’ll be there, won’t you?” An uncertain expression flitted across Zayn’s face momentarily before he gave a little smile and nod. Inside, however, he felt like pulling out his own intestines and strangling himself with them. He hated his job.

//

The next morning, Harry woke up to a few knocks earlier than usual. He was told by Paul to go through his usual routine and get dressed by four to attend his ceremony being held in the gardens. The teen felt this was fair, and was brimming with excitement. He’d never had a party like this before- it was thrilling! Despite the fact that his dad would probably be doing some sort of dirty business dealings behind the stringed music and Hors d'oeuvres. 

He met with Liam after breakfast and a bit of reading, and was excited to know that they weren’t going to be working the teenager ragged. “It’s your birthday,” Liam had said, “just enjoy yourself.” The unfortunate bit though was that Liam was pretty well restricted to the exercise room, so that just left Harry with a great gap in his schedule.

Harry padded back upstairs, glancing around his room for something to do. Since he’d gone outside, he’d spent absolutely no time glaring out the window and wishing he was someone else... The teen padded to the window, pressing his nose to the glass and...-!

“Louis?” There was a man on the roof across the way, staring blankly back at him as if it were his rooftop and Harry shouldn’t be surprised he was there. He inched as close as he could to the window, recognizing that hair and patch as the same from the man nearly a week ago. There were warning signs there, but obviously the kid wasn’t considering them. Harry waved happily, a bright grin spreading over his features as Louis returned the gesture before leaving to his fire escape, leaving the younger’s heart beating heavily in his chest.

Maybe Louis would come to his party after all!

//

It was three forty five and Harry was being corralled by Paul to a little waiting room where the elderly man straightened his tuxedo and bow tie. His birthday ceremony would start in fifteen minutes- his moment of happiness where he was the most important man in the room. At this point, the curly headed boy had even forgotten about Zayn and Louis, which was an incredible achievement. He heard an announcement from beyond the door, introducing him and Paul moved to nudge him urgently out.

The moment his foot landed on the black carpet laid out to mark his path, the stringed instruments started up and a room full of people began to applaud him. It was amazing- that weird swell he got in his chest- and it only escalated as he picked Liam out in the crowd. He beamed, totally thrilled with the whole situation.

Paul nudged him again from behind, now taking a spot beside his young master to walk him through the seats to his own special table where his father sat. Everyone was dressed to the nines in suits and gowns, looking quite splendid as the stringed instruments filled the air. Harry took his seat, his eyes brightening gleefully as he spotted Zayn across the room, sipping on a glass of wine.

The party commenced with the master of the house saying a little bit of nonsense babble about his son and responsibility, “when I told Harold he’d be having this commencement ceremony only a few days ago, his surprise far surpassed what I believed it would be,” his eyes flicked to Liam who shrugged sheepishly amidst a few laughs through the room, “but now, his surprises are his own.” There were a few more speeches like this, including one from a prim young woman with firey eyes who introduced herself as Gemma.

Across the room, Zayn shifted a little in interest to get a look at her. She looked a lot like her brother, which was certainly no insult as Harry himself was quite the beauty for a man. Her long chestnut hair was curled loosely and tied up halfway on her head, framing her angular neck. Harry seemed entranced by his sister, and hung on her every word, even if it wasn’t that interesting. They hadn’t spent time together in years- there wasn’t much to say.

Harry clapped twice as loud for Gemma’s speech, though the woman didn’t seem to care one way or the other as she took her seat on the other side of their father. From that point on, the meal began- a richly catered lunch that was leaving every guest fat and sated, except for Zayn. He only nibbled, not really having much of an appetite. Especially when there was a seat next to him labeled ‘reserved’ for a certain someone he had no desire to think about. Finally, the reception was to begin, and each party guest headed for the gardens to enjoy a similar musical set up outside.

Harry was preening. He was the center of attention, and Zayn could tell he loved it. However, unfortunate as it was, being the center of attention made it hard for the tan man to sneak in and talk to him. Guest after guest came up to the curly teen, congratulating him on his birthday, giving him cards and gifts of all sizes and shapes. There was at one time a point where the middle eastern man could have swooped in, but he was cut off by a bow legged man with very little hair and a very thick moustache instead.

Thankfully, the birthday boy noticed him and made friendly eye contact - a silent promise that he would get to Zayn as soon as possible. As good as his word, er, eyeball, Harry was stepping up to his friend moments later with a large grin plastered on his face.

“Hey, Zayn!” He wiggled a little, seeming like he was too excited for his own skin to contain him. The elder smiled a bit, his intestines feeling like they were full of acid. He wasn’t ready for this at all.

“Harry... Happy birthday.” He didn’t sound happy for the younger at all, but Harry didn’t seem to take it as if it mattered any less. Before he could even ask to take the younger somewhere more private, he was being pulled by an eager teenager out of sight of everyone else. Was this how easy it was going to be? Damn, he may as well just ask Harry to come live at Louis’ place at this rate. No, though. Louis wanted a scene. He’d known the man long enough to expect that much.

“Look, I know we’ve only really been around each other a few days, and now that I’m having my ceremony, we probably won’t see each other anymore,” if only he knew, “but I just wanted to thank you. I never really knew what having a friend was like.” Harry was a grinning idiot now, and Zayn just wanted to lay down and die. If he had the option, he may have tried.

“I’ve got to agree, Harry.” Zayn mumbled, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his pistol. It was now or never. “Which is why I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

//

There were gasps and shouts of horror as a shaking teenager was brought out from behind the shrubbery with a gun pressed against that curly head of his. As weapons were raised in his defense, he was vaguely certain of a voice shouting out beside his right ear to hold their fire. Harry really couldn’t concentrate on anything. As far as he was concerned, Zayn could have said that the apple martinis were lovely but needed more tequila. All he was really certain of was that he was really fucking scared.

From that point on, everything merged together. The air in the car was thick, and all Harry could really hear was the distressed hammering of his heart against his ribcage. His wide green eyes flicked here and there, finally falling on Zayn who sat next to him in trembles, face in his hands. The younger took a deep breath, sounds and sights swimming back into his vision as he spoke.

“What the fuck was that?”

Zayn couldn’t handle it- that expression- as he looked up to answer. Harry looked wrecked and he’d barely been through anything. Sure, on the outside he was still quite proper, but his eyes were distressed and terrified, a little dazed still from his shock. Pink lips were pouted, alternating between being pursed and being lax as he fended off his tears.

He couldn’t believe that this was his life right now. He’d finally felt good; something Zayn hadn’t felt in a long time. He enjoyed the time he spent with Harry, and had loosened up enough around him that this betrayal hit deep inside of his own subconscious as well. He lifted a dark hand, running his fingers through his hair.

“Quiet.”

The look of hurt stunned them both into silence as the car travelled along the quiet path to what seemed like nowhere. Harry peeked out, his tears finally flowing as he lifted his sleeve up to wipe them away. This was supposed to be his day. His birthday. When everyone looked at him instead of his father- where he felt important and like he mattered. Even Gemma had spoken for him, which was such an achievement that he just didn’t know how to feel. Yet now, less than an hour after the reception had begun, he’d been carted out with a barrel to his head by someone he had considered his friend.

Had he been foolish? Surely. The signs were all in front of him. The mysterious man on the roof, similar patches, not learning anything on his trips out... Zayn was no teacher or specialist. He was just getting close to fuck him up. It worked.

“Who do you work for?” Harry finally muttered, rubbing the sleeve of his right arm over his tear stained cheeks, cursing himself for the cracking in his voice. He glanced to the other man with puffy eyes and swollen lips from nervous biting, and Zayn felt his airways close at the look of absolute misery written on the teen’s face. He was also well aware that the expression would only deepen at his utterance.

“Louis Tomlinson.”

The reaction was as he figured it would be, and Harry looked ready to burst. Louis had only logically affected three or four days of his life, but it seemed that those mild interactions would be shaping the paths of his future. The question remained; why the fuck was this happening?

“Why?”

Zayn was in deep, and he was well aware. He was shutting down inside, feeling too rotten to keep from spilling what he knew. At least- to the point of where Louis would actually bring down the hammer if he found out. The man tilted his head to Harry, his brows knitted together as he considered his response.

“He likes you.” Was that enough? Would Harry be content with it? After all, he had grown up in a mob family. He should know that when you want something badly enough, you just sort of take it. The teen’s lips tightened and Zayn’s stomach coiled unpleasantly as a few more tears slipped out. It was no matter, the elder decided in the back of his mind, they’d be at Louis’ place soon and Niall would be taking care of it. Harry was shaking, he noted, and in consideration he was going to press his hand to the younger’s shoulder out of compassion. The flinch was duly noted (and not altogether unexpected) and Zayn recoiled accordingly.

When they arrived at Louis’ place, their silence was so thick it could only be cut with one of those extra sharp knives from Japan. The compound was very different from Styles’, as it was more of a mansion than a building. It wasn’t in the city at all, rather a few miles out. Harry had tensed up so hard that the elder was afraid he would suddenly explode like a tightly wound spring, but he stayed relatively calm as they took the short walk to the front door. It was lovely, really, but the teen couldn’t stop himself from sneering in disgust at everything despite his disposition.

“Stay here.” Zayn muttered, stepping past the younger to the wooden door, rapping on it in quick succession. Harry glanced around, his brows knitted tightly together in defiance as he ignored his ex best friend almost completely.

“Hmph. Yeah. What if I run? What’ll stop me?” Harry asked with a tone that was distinctly teenager. It reminded the other man that the young adult before him was no man at all. Still a child in the eyes of the world. It made him a little sick, to be honest. Zayn paused in his knocking to look at his companion with a pointed expression.

“The armed guards at the corners of the wooded areas. The armed guards in the second story. The armed guards in their own compound houses.” This successfully paled the teen, and Zayn turned back to continue his game of waiting. Finally, there was a loud click and the door was being opened ever so slowly to reveal a small blonde with bright blue eyes and a mischievous expression that Harry couldn’t relate to very well. He looked like there was a lit flame under his ass and he was searching for any way to fan it and make it brighter.

“Hey, love. Is this the new cat?” The blonde stepped forward to which Harry took a step back, glancing around warily for those armed guards Zayn had told him about.

“He’s barely a kitten, Niall.” Zayn grunted, suddenly seeming a little more uncomfortable. If the youngest in the group had been paying attention, he probably would’ve noticed the warning looks that the blonde was getting. As it was, the guy called Niall only grinned a little bigger and moved to grab Harry’s forearm, pulling him in towards the door.

“I’ll take care ov ‘im.” The Irish accent reverberated through Harry’s being as he was suddenly tugged in very close, a yelp shooting from his throat. He didn’t like this guy nor the situation - though he supposed he didn’t have much of a choice - and the last thing he wanted was to be in Louis’ compound with some creep he didn’t like. The loss of Zayn’s presence was unsettling even though Harry was now the president of the ‘I hate Zayn’ fan club, and if he could change history he’d spend an arm and a leg doing so.

“So y’er Harry.” Niall commented, pulling the teen through some winding halls, a bit of deja vu swirling in his guts as he recalled the similar experiences while visiting Louis. “‘M Niall. ‘M Lou’s right ‘and man.” His introduction was lame, Harry thought quietly, and being that lame did not deserve an answer. He usually wasn’t so anti-social, but then again, he usually wasn’t kidnapped, lied to, and betrayed in one day either.

He intended to stay completely silent as well. At least for as long as it was humanly possible. This didn’t last as long as he had hoped because Niall was quickly turning on him, an odd frown on his face.

“I asked ye a question.” He snapped, and in a burst of shock, Harry only nodded. This would have been enough for a normal person, but as the teen was quickly learning, Niall wasn’t really all that normal. He tugged Harry close, a bit of a snarl marring his features as he tightened his grip uncomfortably on the arm in his hand.

“Ye respond with y’er words. Didn’t y’er m’am teach ya that?” This was spiralling out of control quickly, and Harry was figuring out that he was definitely more terrified than defiant. He was going to answer every question with surprising length and consideration because his stomach was on a roller coaster; this explained the sick feeling in his tummy, he supposed.

The urge to spout out that his mother hadn’t been around long enough to teach him anything was pretty damn strong, but the boy bit his tongue and went around it a little.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve had the lessons.” Harry said shakily, and Niall looked almost confused before barking out a mad laugh. The teen shrunk away a moment before his blonde companion turned, grip still unbelievably tight on his arm as he was dragged.

“Y’er funneh.” That was all that was said before Harry was chucked into a large room, decorated in blue and pink with all of his favorite books and films lined up over the shelves. He looked disturbed a moment, turning to try and figure out where Niall had gone when he was faced with a closed door. The teen felt his body begin to shake again, the fear taking over a second time since he’d managed to calm down.

This was absolutely terrible.

He paced a bit, trying to calm his mind with logical thoughts, ‘dad knows I’ve been taken’, ‘he’ll figure a way to get me home’, ‘I won’t be here more than a few days’. However, these seemed to make him more erratic, and before he knew it, he had knocked over a bookshelf full of films and reading material onto the floor. The mess was astonishing- how many things had really been on it? But the feeling of absolute destruction also had his breath evening out. His lips pursed when the bookshelf remained in tact. Something of that size should break, he decided. Harry promptly grabbed the decorative wooden chair from the desk, swinging it up over his head and cracking it hard over the solid back of the shelf. He continued until a satisfying crack and crunch was heard before he finally chucked the now-rickety chair down on top of it all and collapsed on the bed.

He had made a great mess, but he felt good. Really good. Not as good as he would feel if he were at home with Paul, but good enough. Then he realized how fucked he really was, and felt himself dissolving into tears. His body and mind were absolutely wrecked, and he had no idea how to get himself home.

//

“Y’er knew pet is destroyin’ ‘is room.” Niall stated blankly, staring at the screen in front of him as he sipped from a steaming cup. The Irishman and Louis were sitting together in a control room, three screens displaying video in front of them of Harry’s tantrum in his bedroom.

“I can see that.” Louis replied, his voice heavy and warning, coaxing Niall to edge back just a little. The master of the house watched in silence as the teenager on camera laid back onto his mattress before curling in on himself and crying. Louis stirred a bit of sugar into his own cup and leaned back in his swivel chair, a frown on his face.

“Ya gonna deal with it?” It seemed like the blonde couldn’t bite his tongue there, and his master looked ready to kill as he swerved to stair Niall down.

“Shut the fuck up, Niall.” His voice was a threat all on its own, and the younger man backed down immediately, holding up his hands as though in surrender.

“‘M just askin’.”

“I’ll deal with it when I’m fucking ready to deal with it.” Louis hissed through clenched teeth, and the other nodded a little.

“Ya pissed?”

“Of course I’m pissed! I had that all handcrafted and now it’s fucking destroyed! Don’t fucking push me, Niall!” Louis’ language was about as diverse as a two-year-old’s, and the blonde could sense the rage boiling under that olive skin.

He grinned, loving when the master got this way. The blonde laid his hands on the man’s shoulders, squeezing softly and giving a slow massage the way the elder liked. Louis’ muscles untensed, though his expression was clearly asking what the hell that insubordinate thought he was doing.

“Maybe y’er too angry to deal with it now.” Niall stated thoughtfully, though that fire was burning under his ass brighter than ever. His movements were a little uncertain, hoping Louis would take the bait.

“I don’t know.” A groan was brought from the brunette’s throat as a thumb hit a tight muscle and forced it to uncoil. A smirk and grin twisted Niall’s face.

“Look how tense ya are, Lou. Lemme take care ov ‘im.” His tone was pleading now, as if it were something he truly desired. Louis looked incredibly uncertain for a few moments.

“I want him to like me.” He finally stated simply, his brows knitted together. At that, Niall made a sound of disapproval, knowing he had wound his leader down enough to allow this kind of discussion.

“He won’t hate ya. He’ll hate me.” The matter-of-fact tone tumbled like a fountain from the blonde’s mouth, and Louis felt a little more secure in the idea. After a few more gentle circles over the tight flesh, a tone of resignation rattled from below.

“Fine. Just-... Don’t fuck him.” Another disapproving sound emitted from the blonde, but it was cut off immediately by a growl from Louis, showing that the matter was fucking closed and if Niall wanted to do this, he’d better get the fuck on with it.

//

Three unnecessary knocks on the door had woken the curly teen from his sob-induced nap, and it took him a few seconds to focus on what he was seeing. There was a dark form in the doorway, the setting sun through the window providing a terrible source of light.

“Hey there, little one,” that Irish accent had Harry’s skin crawling, “see ya didn’t like y’er new room ver’ much. Lou’s got too much on ‘is ‘ands right now, so I’ll be takin’ care o’ business while he’s out.”

Harry had no idea what was coming, but the rattling of fear up his spine had to account for something. After all, this guy was a fucking nut job - not that Harry had known that many to use reference from - and nothing good ever came from putting a nut job in a position of power over another human being.

He shifted up on his bed, shifting over the duvet and wriggling onto the other side of the bed as Niall made a great show of shutting the door and turning the lock to stop someone outside from getting in. The blonde leaned down, picking up a copy of Dirty Dancing off the floor and examining the broken case lining. He made a ‘tsk’ noise before he chucked his arm back and flung it hard at the boy on the bed. It missed Harry by a fraction, but it had the desired effect as the teen scampered off the bed and scrambled back against the wall.

“Heh- I’m thinkin’ I’d be pretty happeh to ‘ave a room like this’n.” Niall commented as the younger looked around frantically, trying to find a way out. Trying to find something heavy enough to knock the other out with. Something- anything!

“No one else has a nice room like this’n.” The blonde continued, blue eyes piercing through Harry as he took a few steps towards the curly headed boy. “Ye’v got somethin’ real nice, and ye go and wreck it.” The boy looked like a mouse now, cornered by a very hungry cat.

He was getting angry now, though. Harry could see it brewing in those stormy eyes. In what felt like seconds, Niall was pressed against him, a fist clenched around that goddamn bow tie. The teen was lifted from the ground by the blonde’s surprising force, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“‘ave yeh forgotten what weh talked aboat?” The accent was getting thicker now, and Harry swallowed the lump of absolute terror down his throat. “Use. Y’er. Fahking. Werds.” With that, the younger was thrown to the ground, pinned by the smaller man who was pressing his shirt up to see what was hiding.

“Fu-Fucking shit! Get off!” Harry was struggling now, not quite understanding what was going on. He was exhausted from the day, totally winded from the fall, and now Niall was trying to undress him. It made so little sense that he was through with trying to understand.

“What theh fahk is this shet?” Niall’s voice was amazed, and the boy below him paused in tense confusion, hands pressed against the blonde’s shoulders.

“Yeh’ve got foor nipples.” He muttered, reaching down to pinch one rather hard. Harry yelled out, writhing once again before he realized that the man above him wasn’t letting go. He instantly stilled, not wanting one of his extras to be ripped off or something.

“St-Stoppit.” Harry grunted, now trying to peel the elder’s fingers from his bits, but he wasn’t budging.

“Yeh see this, Lou? Foor.” Niall repeated, looking up to the camera that was hidden away in the wall. This was a very small window to get out, Harry thought as he prepared his fist to come into contact with the blonde’s jaw and cheek. Liam had trained him for this moment, and he wasn’t about to lose this perfect angle where the elder was distracted. He wound up and... POW.

Niall was off him, holding his face and giving a low groan at the discomfort. Before the blonde even landed, the younger was at the door, jerking at the handle and pounding at the frame. Locked. Locked. Locked. Locked! LOCKED!

“Help!” He shouted desperately, eyes wild and frenzied, fingers grabbing and clawing at the door. On a second note, he added in, “Louis! Please! I-I know you’re there!”

There was no finishing to that thought though. Niall had regained his composure and was up again, grabbing the screaming lad around the waist and hurling him to the bed. He was furious now, and there was no stopping him. Harry thrashed and threw his fists, his only desire to keep himself so volatile that the Irishman grew tired of trying. It seemed impossible though, and all of his struggling was really only helping. With every wriggle, his pants and briefs slipped lower. While he flailed about, the blonde focused on his own zipper. It really wasn’t the best strategy

Two hands hooked under Harry’s knees and pushed, splitting him in half and making him realize the absolute seriousness of the situation.

“‘M sorry-! Don’t- I-!” He sobbed out, dissolving again into tears. He didn’t have the energy for this. Nor the resilience to keep up with his original plan of never giving in. Harry’s toes curled as he felt the hot, dry head of Niall’s cock pressing against his virgin hole, every movement seeming to last forever as he anticipated how shredded he would be.

BANG!

There were no coherent words as the door slammed open, startling the sobbing teen and hovering blonde. In fact, it all went very fast. There was a loud noise, a growling sound, and then there was a mess of Louis and Niall flailing about the room, slipping on the mess, and generally ruining that proper room even further.

Harry’s heart was pounding as he scrambled to get his shorts up, his body wriggling away from the legitimate fist fight going on before him. Unfortunately, it was more one sided than it seemed. It was along the lines of Louis throwing punches at Niall who was desperately trying to block himself from the shower of hits.

This went on for quite some time, the teenager frozen in terror on his bed in his jacket and underpants while the two grown men squabbled and shouted from the floor. Ultimately, it ended with Louis banishing his staff member from the room with a commanding howl of obscenities, leaving him alone with the shaking teenager.

It all seemed so-... Awkward now. Blue eyes met green for a moment- a familiar sensation running down Harry’s spine as they did- and then the contact was broken. Louis pointed wordlessly at the mess, panting from his battle with the little blonde before looking back to the terrified teenager.

“Clean this shit up. I-I’ll be back to deal with you later.” The voice was still holding that commanding tone, which urged Harry up to start cleaning even before the door was shut and locked behind him.

This was probably going to be singled out as the worst day of his life, bar none.


	4. You're A Slut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is intending to punish Harry for destroying the room, but will it be as bad as he really expects?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's short and almost late! I'm considering making a little update site. That way you can see where I'm at in the process of chapter writing! Leave me a comment if you think I should. c:

Harry had cleaned all that he could by the time he heard the lock clicking in his door. He certainly couldn’t fix the chair or the bookcase, but he had made a pile of wood from the sitting place and propped the bookcase up as well as he could. What he couldn’t salvage, he made a pile out of, and what he couldn’t fit on the cracked shelves, he stacked neatly on his desk. He was sitting awkwardly on his bed, black slacks pulled back on when he finally had company.

“Harold.” Green eyes snapped up to meet unreadable blue eyes of the man that held the contract to his life. However angry he still was, he was still mortified above all else and kept quite quiet before the man’s lips pursed.

“How do you greet people?” The man snapped, stepping forward almost menacingly. It took the curly teen a moment to remember his previous lessons, uttering a small greeting followed up with ‘sir’. It sounded nothing like him- he realized in the silence that followed- and it was an uncomfortable understanding that he wasn’t in his world anymore.

“That’s right.” Louis stepped to him, staring disapprovingly at the mess on the floor from where the younger had picked up after himself. He frowned, stepping towards Harry and sitting down beside him on the bed. The teen looked absolutely wrecked, though the brunette didn’t blame him, and there was another stretch of awkward silence as the struggle for something to say continued.

“I’m upset with you, Harold.” The statement was simple and commanding, and oddly enough it made a sense of disappointment slither down the curly teen’s spine.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry murmured, his eyes watching the ground rather intently. He wasn’t sorry- not really. It was more like... There was some weird part inside of him that truly _was_ upset that Louis was disappointed, but not an actual regret of his actions. The man beside him stirred a moment as though to respond, but fell silent and stilled instead.

“There are consequences that follow inadequate behavior, Harold.” Louis stated in a suave tone, his hands smoothing out the duvet on either side of him where it had been mussed and wrinkled from the new tenant’s wriggling. The worried expression that suddenly caught the teen’s face was almost humorous as the brunette’s eyes crinkled with a smile. There was nothing comforting at all about that twist of lips and Harry felt himself growing more nervous by the second. What _was_ the kind of punishment for this behavior? If his dad had a victim that had behaved as he had- well... Harry gulped and shifted here and there on the mattress, feeling his palms begin to sweat.

Louis was enjoying every little second of this. The kid looked so uncomfortable- it was thrilling. Originally, he had planned to take the curly haired lad just because of the ransom. He wanted that money- needed it to rebuild a portion of a compound on the city limits that had been damaged by Styles’ Corp. After their second meeting though- he’d had a few other things in mind. He reached out, carding his fingers through the soft brown twists on the top of Harry’s head.

“You don’t want me to be angry with you, do you?” The question had the teen’s brows furrowing, and Louis gave a tighter smirk.

“Of course I don’t, Sir.”

“You want to be out of trouble as soon as possible, right?”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry was now very confused, and it was easy to sense the tension over his expressive face. Even the tone of his voice was uncertain and beginning to sound his age.

“Take off your jacket, Harold.” The order was prim and the tone of authority unwavering but- Harry just simply didn’t want to. Not many hours ago, that sociopath of a guard had tried to rape him. He was nowhere near comfortable with stripping for the older man. As a small -but meaningful- act of defiance, Harry gave a short shake of his head. The look Louis gave him at that sent a wave of terror down his spine.

“I will not repeat myself again,” he hissed, sounding like he was coming unglued rather quickly, “take off your jacket.” It was swiftly becoming apparent to Haz that Louis had some sort of anger issues- even though it shouldn’t be anything new to the teen by any stretch of the imagination.

“I-I don’t want to.” He couldn’t believe his own ears as he spoke. It had been blurted out so fast! Harry felt his heart surge in terror as the already thin lips of his companion thinned further, a hand flying at the speed of pain to connect violently with his cheek.

“I’m not asking-” the powerful tone had gone dark with rage, “and if you don’t take it off willingly, I’ll rip it seam from seam off your body. So with every ounce of my self control, I’ll say it one. Last. Time. Take. Off. Your. Jacket.” Instinctively, Harry had covered his burning cheek with one of his large hands, looking absolutely mortified. The burning that was festering in the brunette’s eyes was that of undoubted danger, and he felt that if he didn’t take off the jacket, the elder may take off his arm.

With consideration towards the fact that he kind of liked his arms and legs being attached to his being, Harry finally began to pull his sleeve gently, tugging the material off of his lanky arms to expose his nice white undershirt. He set the jacket to the side before returning his hand to his cheek, sulking -as teenagers do- while Louis looked him over.

“Now the shirt.” Louis added, and without too much hesitation, the younger moved to unbutton his dress shirt. After all, he wasn’t particularly wanting his right cheek to match his stinging left. The elder man hummed in appreciation, watching like a hungry wolf as inch after inch of pretty milky flesh was exposed. There was no time for Harry to relax as the brunette was now demanding his pants be undone and removed as well. He couldn’t handle the building apprehension in his guts as he shakily moved to unbutton his nice slacks. 

“L-Louis, I don’t-”

“Sir.”

“Sir... I don’t want to- to take these off.” Harry’s hands stilled now, the memory of the fear the hot cock-head had instilled still too fresh in his mind. Unfortunately, the elder was just as unforgiving as Niall, but more powerful by far. Even the scrutiny of those angry blue eyes made the younger wish he had just followed through with the task instead of questioning it.

"Did I ask you what you wanted?" The voice was oddly settled and controlled, but there was an obvious force hiding behind it. It made the teenager shift uncomfortably with a little grimace as he shook his head 'no'. What was totally unexpected, (and if you asked Harry, uncalled for) was when Louis' arm darted out quickly to wrap his fingers tightly around the younger's long neck. The curly boy yelped and reached up immediately to scratch and scramble at the fingers that were deftly attempting to block his airways.

"N-No!" Harry replied, his little heart leaping out of his chest as he began to shift backwards, trying to escape the angry fingers. Louis finally let go, Harry's momentum carrying him to the bed where he lay gasping a moment. It took a little while for him to realize that since he had not done it himself, his new master was taking it upon himself to undo the buttons of the black dress pants. What didn't take any time at all was for the younger to decide what course of action to take. He laid quite still, letting the smaller fingers undress him until he was down to his little boxer briefs, goosebumps prickling up on his legs from the combination of the situation and cold air.  
"Was that so bad?" Louis demanded, his voice definitely less angry now as he could admire the long limbs without a struggle. There was a shake of a head from below, and the mobster decided that perhaps he could allow Haz that small victory. He ran a hand up that slender thigh, fondly recalling the similar movement from the Japanese restaurant. This kid never got boring to touch or watch- perhaps he'd just keep him rather than take on the ransom and return him.

"No, sir." Harry mumbled out lowly, his eyes catching on something else in the room to keep his attention while the elder man touched him. It didn't have the magical appeal he had felt when Louis had touched him before. There was no excitement or mystery. He was just scared. Terrified, really. He wanted to go home. He wanted to lug around a heavy vest and have awkward meal conversations with his father every evening. Everything that used to bother him suddenly seemed so comforting. If he never saw the outside again, that would even be okay with him. The teen couldn't stifle a surprised noise as he felt something hot and wet slip over the front of his boxers, and with a little yelp, he realized it was Louis' tongue. Just the thought had him under some sort of misty euphoria, his toes curling up at the attention. Two dark brows knitted together as he watched the man below him draw little patterns with his snake-like tongue. The curly lad wouldn't have been surprised if the bastard's tongue was forked at this rate.

"What are-" Before Harry could even begin to muck up the situation, the man was shushing him, prodding apart his thighs with a strong, slender hand. Silence was sudden and iminent over the room, leaving the younger feeling nervous and very much aware of the pudgy little bits on his stomach from where his baby fat lingered, or the fact that his legs were still lanky despite all of the training. Nothing still seemed to compare to that tongue that was now tracing symbols over his hardening package, leaving moist kisses through the fabric with low, teasing chuckles. Harry was certain- Satan had kidnapped him. With such a divine body and tongue combined with the most evil of intentions- definitely Satan.

Toes were curling up again as that tongue began to lick and press against the fabric with more pressure, wetting down the outline of Harry's erection and making a slippery trail down to the bulge of his sac. By now, the teenager was nothing but a writhing, mewling, mess on his sheets, and Louis was definitely okay with that.

"You know- for someone who puts up such a fight about being undressed, you certainly don't mind getting licked" Louis commented as he removed the final piece of clothing hiding his little pet from him, "you know who's very similar?" the question lingered in the air as the older man eyed Harry's shaft, hard and leaking against his tummy.

"Wh-Who?" Even if this was more to humor Louis than anything else, the kid didn't care. All he wanted was that sinful mouth on him again! There was no more defiance- at least at that moment- because fuck! This guy couldn't lead him to euphoria and back without letting him relieve himself.

"A slut." Louis' answer was biting, and below him there was a noise of disapproval. However, before any real complaining could be done, two long arms had hooked under Haz's thighs and lifted them, launching his hips up and off the mattress. What happened next would have the teenager flushing into his fifties.

"Louis!"

"Ngh..."

The man had pressed his nose right into the soft flesh of Harry's sac, delving his tongue deep into the crack to prod menacingly at his virgin opening. The boy could barely believe it- nor the pleasure that came with it. His fingers dove into his curly hair to grab tightly and pull while his throat made some sort of noise he had no idea he was even capable of. That tongue came again, swiping over his small opening again and again. There were no crayola brand names to describe the color of Harry's face at that moment in time, but he was sure it was very similar to the purplish-red tone his cock was sporting. Louis pulled back, a strand of saliva keeping the man's tongue connected to Haz's private place.

"A slut loves these sorts of things." He muttered huskily, releasing one of the teen's thighs so he could bring a finger to the slippery hole, "and judging by the way you were howling to the ceiling, that makes you a slut." Lou pressed the pad of his finger against the younger's tight hole, rubbing and putting minimal amounts of pressure against it before breaching the opening and slipping his digit in knuckle deep.

"N-Not a slut." Harry mumbled out, his hole rapidly contracting around the finger as he tried to grow accustomed to it, slight discomfort written on his pretty features. The dominant male let this slip, moving to put his tongue to better use. He licked that tight ring of muscles around his finger, aiding the thrusting movement he was implementing by getting his digit nice and moist. Before long, Harry was whimpering and moaning again, being coaxed by a second finger and tongue.

Suddenly, the fingers were removed along with the tongue and Louis’ support. A pair of hips plopped back on the bed accompanied by a noise of disgruntled shock.

“Ehn?”

“Do you want to get off?” Louis was standing by the bedside drawer with an inquisitive expression on his face. Wondering if this was some sort of trick, the younger hesitated before giving a little nod.

“Good.”

In an instant, Louis was back. He tossed the boy onto his hands and knees, barking a little order at the boy to ‘keep his ass high’ and to ‘stop moving like a damn idiot’. Once everything was in check, Harry was trembling at the feel of some very icy cold substance dripping down into his crack. He let out a little mewl, eyes closing tightly as he tried to keep from reaching back to find out what it was.

“Sluts love it.” The man behind him murmured, encouraging a grumpy little noise from the folded teenager below. There were no verbal complaints, however, as there was a small phallic shaped tool being pressed between his cheeks. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he was penetrated by a small toy, a little hand pressed against the small of his back to ensure his posture.

“Whassit...?” A flush was high on Harry’s cheeks as he panted out his question, writhing in shame at the chuckle that emitted from the elder. The hand disappeared from his back and instead carded through his hair comfortably, the hand working the dildo beginning a nice, deep rhythm.

“Just a toy,” the conversational tone made Haz writhe a little more, “that I can tell you’ll like.” He prodded around a few more times before the curly lad yelped, hips bucking just slightly. Amidst a mumble of, ‘there it is’, he flicked his left wrist, burying the toy in deep and clicking a little button on the side to begin a very vigorous vibration. The teen was completely speechless, eyes round and jaw dropped- he could barely focus on the duvet or one of the four posts of his bed.

A low groan from Louis reminded him of what was going on, and he turned his head quickly to meet his glazed eyes with the same piercing blue he was getting used to. The coiling in his stomach was tight, and he realized that the release was pending and he’d not even been touched! Haz gulped hard, hips jutting back just a little to try and get the vibrating tip to shift over his gland, wanting more friction!

“Harry likes it, ehn?” The mutter was thoughtful before the toy was thrusted rapidly into his clenching hole and against the sweet little bundle of nerves deep in his body. It only took three rough movements for the teen to spill out against his blankets with a quick sob of the mobster’s name. Louis himself was impressed. Done with this, he turned and padded out of his pet’s room, leaving the boy laying in a pile of his own mess with a vibrating toy still lodged deep inside of him.

//

“What kind ‘o punishmen’ was tha’?” Niall sounded morbidly offended as Louis joined him in the control room. Despite the angry tone the Irishman sported, he’d decided not to tuck the erection back in his pants just then.

“You traumatized him, Horan.” The response was soft, and Niall, for once, shut his mouth. There was a quiet moment before the leader reached out to grope the blonde’s dick, stroking slowly.

“You don’t seem too unhappy.”

“Can’ say I re’lleh am.”

“Suck my dick and I’ll make sure you get off too. Get on your knees.”


	5. Some Filler Chapter Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Zayn are reunited, while a little peek of Niall and Louis' past is revealed. Poorly. Because I suck. Thanks for putting up with my crap!! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update! I've been incredibly sick- in and out of hospitals sick- and it was just hard to keep up. It's more of a filler than anything else because I was so desperate to give something to you guys. But it is full of plot points and fun stuff. <3 Love y'all. Thanks for putting up with my bull!

Back at the Styles’ corporation, Harry’s absence was the top priority on everyone’s mind. The heir of the estate was gone, and the master of the house was in a panic. He sat behind his desk, mulling over the letter that his agents had left on his desk marked ‘Tomlinson&Co.” It held all of the younger boss’ demands, which was for an incredible lump sum of cash to be delivered within the next month. Liam had been into his office on multiple occasions to demand they send out a search and rescue mission, but Styles Sr. had been far too deep in thought to even recognize he was being harassed. Each time, the physical trainer was lead back to the weight room, told to stay put for the remainder of the day.

Gemma had even been into her father’s office to express her deep concerns about her brother’s disappearance.

“Surely we can arrange the funds by the beginning of March...” She had insisted, holding on gently to her father’s large fingers and giving a gentle squeeze. He hadn’t responded, and after a few minutes of silence, she had returned to her chambers.

//

A few moments after Louis had left him, the boy had reached back shakily to dislodge the still wriggling toy from his backside, letting it run out its batteries on his duvet as he panted and attempted to catch his breath. The man had come in to punish him, hadn’t he? For fighting with Niall and wrecking his pristine bedroom? But- that didn’t seem much like a punishment at all. Harry moved to the closet to peek inside and see what there was for him to change in. There was an outfit identical to the one Zayn had bought him--he felt a twitching sensation in his tummy as he thought about Zayn--and many other outfits from casual to bedtime to classy 007. Considering how exhausted he was, he grabbed a pair of long cotton bottoms and pulled them on over his naked lower half. It was time for a good few hours of rest.

//

Niall was able to finish his master off quickly as he was already on his brink from the show of the boy trembling and cumming violently underneath him. Louis never was one to disappoint, and even though he was still quite pissed at the little Irishman for trying to do the _one_ thing he had told the younger not to, he had brought Niall over the edge with a large toy and quite a few obscenities. The blonde was always a good fuck, and it left them both pretty satisfied so why not?

“So we’re clear then?” Louis murmured, buttoning his employee’s shirt slowly up the pale chest that was littered with love bites and scratch marks. Blue eyes met blue as the younger looked a little confused.

“You aren’t to go near him any longer. Your temper is too short.” The snippy tone made blonde brows furrow, though there wasn’t too much of a verbal response outside of a grunt. He would leave the curly haired brat alone. He had work to do anyway.

“Call Zayn to check in on him. He seemed to like Zayn.” Louis’ voice was vague now, as though he were thinking of something else in hindsight, though it seemed the other man got the message.

“A’ight.

//

Zayn wasn’t entirely too excited when he received the call from Niall ordering him back to Louis’ place. It had only been a day- what had Harry really done to get himself into that much trouble? Even so, he belonged to the Tomlinson corporation, and part of that deal was coming like an obedient dog when called for. He tugged his leather jacket up over his shoulders and headed out of the apartment he lived in, hailing a cab easily. This was going to be a long and frustrating day, especially since something had to go morbidly wrong for him to be brought in. After all, Zayn had thought he was out of the Harry drama by now.

He twiddled his thumbs idly in the back of the cab, decidedly not paying when he got out at Louis’ place. No one really questioned him any longer- if he paid, he paid- if not well... He was getting dropped off at the address of a well known mobster. There was no demanding for payment when that sort of thing happened. He knocked twice, not looking the least bit surprised when his least favorite blonde answered the door.

“Ahh~ Y’er here fasta than I ‘spected.” Niall stated easily, that unsettling grin on his features. He turned quickly, heading into the house with the expectation of Zayn following him. With a little grunt, the tan male followed behind quickly, glancing around as though expecting Louis to pop out of a corner and kill him or something.

“What’s wrong with the kid?” It was all he could think of to ask, knowing that had to be the reason he was being summoned. The other man seemed to be quietly considering it, though the smirk spreading over those catlike features wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

“He did’n take tha new arrangements so well.” Niall led him to the room that had to be Harry’s and he pulled a silver key from his right sleeve to unlock it. He pressed it open, taking care to stay quiet, and Zayn paled at the sight.

Harry laid nude and very much asleep on his mattress, his backside high in the air with a wriggling toy still lodged inside of him. The brown man brought a hand to his mouth, shocked and disgusted by the image in front of him. That disgust was manifesting itself in a weird stirring in his pants, but he was eager to ignore it, instead moving to chuck a blanket over the teen’s shoulders. The rage he felt quickly overwhelmed his slight arousal, and he turned to Niall with eyes blazing.

“What. Happened. To. Him.” He demanded shortly, his protective nature wanting answers _now_ , but his compassion keeping his voice down to keep Harry in a state of relaxation. He didn’t want to wake the boy to anything else that may have involved violence.

“Well- he wrecked ‘is room. ‘N then Lou was pissed, ya? So he sent me’n here to take care of et,” he pointed to his eyes which were beginning to bruise up now that an hour or so had passed since their battle royale, “But I wen’ a little too far ‘n Lou was even more pissed- so he though’ havin’ me call ya would be tha best op’ion. Figured maybeh yer babysittin’ skills would come in ‘andy.” Zayn felt himself growing angrier with each accented syllable.

“Babysitting?” He hissed out, finding so many things worth arguing about in that sentence, but figuring it would be best to focus on the most upsetting. He’d never ‘babysat’ Harry in any sense of the words. They were ‘friends’. That’s what the curly lad had called him, and even if he was the worst friend alive, he was still a friend. Not a fucking babysitter.

“Shh~ Y’er gonna wake tha babeh...” Niall smirked, blowing his co-worker a kiss before stepping outside of the bedroom and locking it audibly.

//

“So, Zayn’s in there with him?”

“You coul’ jus’ look at yer fancy screen, ya know.”

“I didn’t ask for lip.”

“Ya did earlier.”

“Shut the fuck up, Niall.”

Louis was spread out on a lavish couch in a bathrobe, hair wet from his impromptu shower after Niall’s attention to his cock. He was watching a large flat screen television, sweaty football players darting back and forth after the black and white ball. As though unphased by the ominous tone in his master’s voice, the blonde moved to the floor in front of the older man and sat down to watch the game.

“Who’s winnin’?” Niall asked, even though the scores were constantly on screen. He always needed to converse with his companion, even if it was an argument.

“Manchester, you great twat. Can’t you read?” Louis wasn’t in the mood for the other boy’s bullshit at this point. He’d already dealt--quite well, he’d add, with the annoyance that came with being around Niall all the time.

“Sure can. Jus’ like it when ya talk.” The blonde replied, resting his head back on the older male’s arm as he snuggle up. The original irritation ebbed away as quickly as it came, and Lou’s hand lifted to begin gently stroking through the soft blonde hair. It wasn’t as though he’d ever really intended to be stuck with the little Irishman, but they’d been pretty close since they were children. Niall’s family had served Louis’ family for generations. Maybe the mild insanity the blonde suffered from was bothersome, but he couldn’t just let go of years of love and companionship they’d shared.

“You’re a cunt.” Louis replied, though he continued petting slowly. Niall only giggled and gave a great yawn, ready to relax after his pretty intense afternoon.

//

“Harry-?” Zayn’s voice was a little shaky as he attempted to rouse the younger boy. He’d taken the odd task of turning off the toy and removing it, but now he really needed to wake the kid up and make sure he was okay. He reached out, gripping the nude shoulder and giving it a little shake. In all realty, he should have known that Harry needed to sleep--that he was probably completely exhausted from whatever it was that Louis had put him through.

“Harry, are yeh alright?” Zayn prompted, sounding like he was going a little more insane with every second that passed where the little lad wasn’t up and chatting. Finally, there was a little wriggling inside of the blanket and the tan male heaved a low sigh of relief. Hazy green eyes flicked up to nervous brown ones, and seemed almost confused a moment before they narrowed.

“Zayn?” His voice was a croaking sound--much different from the happy chatty teenager--and it made the elder boy shudder. What _had_ Harry been through over the past two days? It wasn’t until Harry’s reaction went sour that the elder sort of remembered they weren’t really on speaking terms.

“The fuck are you doing here?” The curly lad snapped, looking pretty damned irritated, writhing away from his old friend on the bed. Zayn couldn’t really help the scorching disappointment that wriggled throughout his midsection, but at the same time he couldn’t really blame the kid for being pissed at him. In retrospect, he _had_ tricked him in quite the vile fashion and then kidnapped him in front of his entire family at his own birthday party. That was probably grounds of being on bad terms.

“Niall called me. Told me you were havin’ some issues here and that you needed someone to talk to.” Zayn explained calmly, expecting the swift retribution from the boy who was now sitting up, clenching the blankets around his midsection. Harry looked incredibly uncertain, his eyebrows knit so tightly it looked to be one thick row of hair. His fingers were so tight on his blanket that his knuckles were white, and it appeared he may chew through his own lip.

The eruption Zayn had expected, never happened. Instead, Harry just laid back quietly against his bed, watching the older boy with doubtful green eyes. The silence that followed was awkward, and the Arabic man just wanted his friend too beat him or slap him--tell him what an awful human he was--anything!

Harry himself was experiencing some sort of mortifying crisis. He had reached the conclusion that he was going to be locked up at Louis’ for a period of time--though how long was completely unknown--and he decided that it may be best to just sort of... Go with it. 

“What does he want with me?” Harry finally questioned, the use of his voice startling the elder just a bit. He felt an odd sense of de javu from earlier in the cab when the teenager had demanded to know what Louis wanted with him. To be honest, Zayn already felt rotten enough. He’d taken the boy away from his life and family--and for what? To be held as ransom over some petty crime spree and territory detail? The elder huffed, watching the familiar teen for a minute with little to no expression. Harry’s lips pursed. Always so calm...

“I don’t think I can tell you that.” Was the rickety answer, and for a moment, Harry’s brows unfurrowed. His old friend felt uncomfortable... The tone in his voice made it obvious which meant he probably wasn’t calm at all. Through the unwavering gaze, the teenager slowly raised his hand and passed it in front of Zayn’s eyes rapidly. Instead of a dark hand darting up to catch his wrist, brown eyes just lazily followed it. There was an odd, very tense moment between the two of them as Harry took his arm back.

Something wasn’t really right, here.

“What can you tell me?” Harry finally asked, his anger ebbing away slowly from the tan lad to something less seething. Curiosity. After all, it wasn’t necessarily Zayn’s decision to nab him and throw him in a place with two lunatics... It couldn’t be. Zayn was just a grunt worker, like many of his father’s men...

The elder perked up at the question, looking more than happy to supply a bit of unimportant information to try and regain the trust of their lost bond.

“I can tell you lots of other stuff.”

Zayn proceeded to tell Harry all about his own past, even bringing up conversation on the work he did for the Tomlinson corporation, effectively placing on the blame for the kidnapping on Louis himself. Though his reasoning was vague and he kept trotting around the real reason, it was good conversation. Harry felt as though he could lean on his old friend a little, especially in this place in the wake of the Irish psychopath and Louis the Molester.

//

“Y’er not s’posed to downplay tha boss, yeh fuck.” After a little while of conversation, Harry had expressed he was tired, and the elder had been perfectly fine with that and left to pursue a better hobby--watching television on Louis’ sofa. After a while, Niall had joined him (much to his displeasure) and immediately began rapping on his consolation technique.

“Harry needed to hear something positive,” Zayn muttered lowly, trying to focus on the ale commercial on the teley, “besides, how can you talk about Lou’s history _without_ him sounding like a royal ass?” The blonde beside him considered this a moment before giving a little shrug of agreement.

“Yeh, guesso. You’re still go’na have ta deal with him though. He prolly won’t be sa happeh when he finds out yeh yakked about som’uv his business.” Niall never had an off switch, and Zayn finally just sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, how about you shut the hell up about it then and let your master deal with his own problems, huh? Bugger off, ya little twat.” The tan male shooed the smaller off, scoffing a tad at the resulting obscenities.

//

Back at the Styles’ Corporation, a letter had finally come in to discuss the whereabouts of the lost heir to the building.

_Mr. Styles,_  
I am pleased to inform you that your son isn’t dead.  
However, it is with great displeasure that I enclose the terms that must be met to keep him that way.  
I desire five thousand pounds by tomorrow night’s sunset. I will desire another five thousand pounds nine more times on each consecutive night to be delivered to your local post in a black briefcase.  
With each missing shipment, your son will be punished as though it were his misdoing.  
Consider this wisely. 

_-Tommo &Comp._

Paul had attempted to console the furious leader, but it had ended poorly for them both. As of that moment, they had to accumulate some money- fast. Their golden boy’s life was depending on it.

That evening, a discreet phone call was tracked from Styles’ to Tommo’s, and a conversation was held outside of prying ears.

//

Louis stayed far away from his newest housemate the next day, allowing Zayn to tend to the curly boy if he needed anything. If anything, it was to make sure the little lad didn’t get _too_ disgusted with him in such a small space and short period of time. Besides, he had to be ready to pick up the cash later that evening--he didn’t have time to be fawning over his enemy’s son.

Fawning? No, that wasn’t correct at all. A miserable ‘dealing with’ would be more appropriate. The lanky little bastard was nowhere near good enough to fawn over.

Louis spent most of his day at the little mini bar in the kitchen. At one point, he’d had a personal bartender, but after the dip in his funds he had to let the unnecessary employees go. It kind of sucked, but at least he had someone willing to fill _every_ position in his house.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be? How do you even know how to mix that shit?”

Niall only snickered as he poured very precise amounts of liquor into the shaker, mixing quickly. He gave a little shrug, smiling brightly as he poured the translucent liquid into a shot glass.

“Where else ‘ave I got? Ya called in Zayn for the li’l twat upstairs...” Louis downed the glass, grimacing a little from the taste and from the name Niall gave his new pet. He had half a mind to tell the blonde off, but he figured it wouldn’t do any good.

“Rightly so. You can’t keep your cock in your jeans long enough to take care of him.” Louis spoke calmly, as though this wasn’t something to be a little weirded out by.

“Can’t help meself. He clocked me in tha jaw. What’d ya expect?”

“That’s why I got off my ass and down to the door the moment he did it. I didn’t wait for you to pull it out.” The tone of voice was oddly understanding as he pressed the shot glass back to Niall to had it refilled.

“Ahaha. Don’t ye remember how we met?” He asked quietly, leaning over the bar on his elbows with a small, mischievous grin. Louis tilted his head back and gulped down the second shot before responding.

“Well, yeah- I mean. Your dad was my dad’s right hand. You were destined to be mind after you were born.” Louis commentated quietly, a little taken back when the younger reached out to trail a dangerous pale finger up his throat.

“Nah... When we... _Met_. We snuck outta yer pop’s meeting... Went to tha’ club downtown tha’ had tha sexy dancers...” The younger gently cupped his friend’s jawline, rubbing the bone in slow circles. For a moment, the elder looked a little uncomfortable.

“Alternatively, the moment I realized you’re a sadistic rapist?” Louis murmured quietly, watching Niall through narrowed eyes as the fingers continued to stroke and massage his jawbone.

“Mhm... We ‘ad a great time, didn’t we?” The blonde mumbled quietly, stroking and showing affection as he leaned up to press his mouth against Louis’ chin.

“Had is sort of the key word, isn’t it,” the elder chuckled, carefully pushing his companion back and away, “though that’s exactly why you can’t be around my Harry.” He muttered quietly, not at all recognizing his possessive statement. Louis stood, feeling the alcohol rushing to his head as he moved to the door frame.

“Go rub one out and calm down, yeah? Don’t want you going off kilter again. I’d like to stay in control this time...”

A deep chuckled emitted from Niall’s throat as his master headed off to bed, his eyes flicking to the screens on the next room over. Harry’s room was empty, aside from the mass of curls snuggled up in the bed, and on another screen, Zayn was still tucked into the sofa with some random comedy show on the television.

“Goodnigh’, Lou Bear...” He called out, the intimidating tone going totally unrecognized by the master of the house.


	6. Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Zayn, and Niall have to save Louis from himself. Really not that deep. Zayn comforts Harry and Louis gets pissed. What the hell is Niall doing every other day hovering around Harry's bed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! The next chapter, I'm thinking, will be an in depth memory-bit from Niall's point of view. Anyone believe it shouldn't be? Leave me a comment, yeah? Love you all!

It was of no surprise to anyone that the first destination of Niall’s was Harry’s door, slipping the key out of his right sleeve and turning it quietly in the lock. However, nothing was shifted, moved, or even said as the blonde made his way to the side of the teenager’s bed, reaching down to touch one of the curls. A rosey lip was caught between teeth as the elder seemed deep in thought, giving a low murmur as he twisted the lock of hair around one of his delicate fingers. Shortly after, Niall left the room, locking the door behind him and leaving the young lad completely unharmed.

//

The next morning, Louis was prepared to head to the bank, knowing that he had given enough time for Styles’ grunts to get home. He knew that his nemesis wasn’t stupid, and setting up stakeout members was indeed a stupid thing to do. One unaccounted for on the premises and Harry was as good as dead. (This was a lie, of course. Louis had no intention of ending the younger; but his father didn’t know that.) He stepped into the building, requested the parcel from the man who was well informed in their business, and spent a good while counting the pounds before him. Perfect. Five thousand whole clams. He gave the case back, depositing the funds into his own account before returning the case and instructing it to be returned to its rightful owners.

This was going to be an interesting game, he decided- and he had nine more deliveries to pick up. Forty-five thousand pounds to repair his compounds and make himself well known again. It was the perfect plan. Of course, that meant giving Harry up at the end of the ninth day but--surely that didn’t matter to him? Positively not.

//

This pattern was followed pretty easily for a few days, Louis trying to go about his business while dealing as little with Harry as he possibly could and instead making sure Zayn was around to take care of him. As odd as it was, the curly lad was kind of upset by this. By the sixth evening there, four more packages to receive as the demands hadn’t come in until the second night, he was beginning to ask questions.

“I thought you said he liked me.”

“He does, Harry.”

“Then why has he stopped coming to talk with me?” Brows knit together in confusion.

“It’s... Complicated.” Zayn couldn’t even begin to explain to the kid that Louis was just using him for money. Not only was it rotten but- Harry had that weird fondness for his master over all else, no matter what wrongs he’d committed. 

“He doesn’t like me.” Could he get any more pouty?

“Get off yourself.”

“He’s got some other reason.”

“Don’t be foolish, Harry.” There was a tone in Zayn’s voice that cut his friend off before he could say anything else. A curly head was lowered and the elder heard the sniffles before he noticed the tears. There was a soft mumble of, ‘I want to go home’ before there was a mess of limbs and hair crawling into his lap. He had been sitting with the teenager in his room, he himself taking up a thick armchair while Harry lazed about on his bed. The kid had been much better about taking care of his things--Louis had gifted him with a new bookshelf and wooden chair one evening, so everything was pristine again.

With a confused noise, Zayn carefully wrapped his arms around the slender frame to try and console the quaking boy. This was a mess, and he was well aware that he needed to talk to Louis about it... There was something wrong with his employer lately, what with avoiding the teen like he was some sort of disease and barely coming around unless he was needed... It was highly unlike their snarky, commanding leader who would go out of his way to make your life uncomfortable if he wanted to.

“Hey--It’s okay. Don’t cry, Harry...” He had mumbled awkwardly, threading his fingers through that curly hair slowly to try and soothe his little friend. Having little sisters lessened the unsettling tension of not knowing how to socialize when someone was crying, but knowing it was his fault increased the tension tenfold.

“C-Can’t you do anything, Zayn?” Harry’s glistening eyes tilted up to him, and the thuggish man felt his heart cracking at the mere sight. He probably was going too soft for this job afterall. He leaned forward, pressing a little kiss to the hot temple as he cradled the younger lad against him.

“I can’t do anything... You know that. But... You’re strong. You know?” Zayn paused, looking for words--any words--that could make the boy feel better. He moved to inch away, wanting a little bit of breathing room, but the movement only enticed Harry into scrunching a bit of the elder’s tee-shirt in his hands and holding tight. It was like some sort of a baby koala or something.

Aware that Harry wasn’t going to let him out of that vice grip, the tan male rested a moment with his lips gently resting on his friend’s temple. The pressure was really on now as curls shifted with tears and fingers clenched and unclenched in his graphic shirt.

“Look- uhm... Life is what you make it, right?” He had no idea how to explain what was going on, nor was he allowed to, and this just seemed like an adequate way to go about trying to tell the younger to calm down.

“Wh-What?” The rumbling murmur came from below, weak and raspy with tears.

“Well, you know. Staying optimistic and whatnot. Even in bad situations,” a set of long fingers found their way to the soft curls and stroked gently as he spoke, “like, seeing the glass as half full and shit.” There was a weak little giggle below him, a snuffling through tears at the painful attempt at cheering the younger up. Even so, Harry didn’t speak, and just sort of rested in his arms, giving a grunt of protest when Zayn tried to take his hand back.

“K-Keep doing that- I mean... If you want. Please...” Harry mumbled, his hand darting up to try and guide the elder’s fingers back into his mop of curls.

“Fine, fine.” The stroking resumed, and the teen mumbled something about wanting Zayn to keep talking about ‘glasses and water and all that shit’. A smile crept up on his face, and the dark man continued, talking all about perspectives and being prepared for the ride on the roller coaster of life. Harry eventually dozed off against his friend’s broad chest, one hand nestled in the dark hair at the nape of Zayn’s neck and the other furrowed in his tee shirt. The man chuckled vaguely at the thought of Harry being such a large infant before he picked the larger male up and moved to put him to bed.

//

Louis had approached him not more than a minute after he’d shut and locked Harry’s door with his own key. The brunette had come up beside him, slinking an arm around his broad shoulders and squeezing them as if it were the most natural thing in the world despite him having disappeared for a few days.

“What’s up, Zaynie?” He asked calmly, and the smaller male felt like he needed to scrunch up and disappear.

“Nothing... Harry just laid down for bed.” Zayn answered carefully, eyes flicking between Louis and said man’s hand on his opposite shoulder.

“I saw.” The deadpan response was riddling the younger with anxiety, and Zayn had to pause for a minute before responding.

“Is something the matter?”

The answer came in the form of Louis pressing his tan companion tightly against the wall, pinning him sharply and pursing his lips.

“You were all over him, Malik.” He hissed, putting extreme pressure right over his employee’s clavicle to keep him right where he wanted him.

“W-Was not! What the fuck’s wrong with you!” Louis adorned the response with a harsh backhand, imprinting five fingers into the side of Zayn’s face as well as the scent of alcohol into his memories.

“Petting his hair- kissing on him- letting him straddle you like a fucking slut...” Louis seemed to pause in consideration before the younger caught on and began to protest, “maybe I should be punishing him, hah? Afterall, you didn’t pull him into your lap- he just seemed to think it was okay...”

Brown eyes widened as he tried to struggle, the shocking pain in his collar bone preventing him from doing too much.

“That’s right,” glazed blue eyes met Zayn’s, but only for a moment as they were struggling to focus through the booze, “ _he’s_ the little twat that curled up on _you_. _He_ went to you for comfort.” This was becoming all about Harry, and while the grunt worker hated the confrontation anyway, he couldn’t allow Louis to blame everything on the youngest without a bit of a fight.

“Lou- n-no. I uh- I told him it would be okay.” The thought that Louis knew better didn’t really occur to him, and he silenced the other man with a harsh slap.

“Get to your bunking quarters,” the leader hissed, letting go of Zayn and shoving him away, “or I’ll put you out and feed you to the dogs.” With a serious frown, the younger fell completely silent. ‘Put you out’ meant being placed on the back step of the building deepest in the wooded area behind his master’s compound, and ‘dogs’ were the derogatory term for the firing squad that would splatter all your brain matter across the wall.

“Yes sir.”

“S’What I thought.” The slur didn’t go unnoticed, and Zayn was well aware he had to make a quick stop to the blonde nightmare over the next few days to threaten him about giving Louis so much alcohol.

//

Harry was awake before his captor even made his way in. The scuffling against the door and uncoordinated jabs of metal on metal to try and fit the key in had roused him quickly enough to instill the thought that something was going on. He sat up sleepily, rubbing at his tired eyes and grumping at the fact that he’d just gotten to sleep when the door finally burst open and...

“Louis?” The voice was small and confused as he tried to wake himself up, wanting to know what Louis was doing! Had he finally changed his mind about whether or not he wanted to be around? Maybe he did like Harry after all! Just like zayn had said!

“You like Zayn.”

Harry frowned at the accusation, sensing something strange in the elder’s voice. He cocked his head to the side, green eyes watching the man he adored so much that it was beyond reasoning with slight fear. Something was off, but he couldn’t pinpoint it just right. Louis was getting closer now.

“You do, don’t ya?” The weird accenting slur was making him uncomfortable, and he clasped his hands in his laps as Louis approached. Finally, he was within just a few inches of his captor, and he was starting to quake a little. This wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“Answer me!” The man was shouting now, a vein about to burst on his neck and temple. Harry yelped and tried to wriggle back, but he was being shoved onto the covers of the blanket and pinned under Louis’ hot weight. He was panicking! He couldn’t even remember what Louis had asked him, let alone answer the damn question!

“I-I don’t know!” He cried out, his arms flailing a little, trying to push the advancing man away.

“Do ya fuckin’ like Zayn? Damn slut wants to crawl up in his lap- let him kiss all over you, hah?” Louis was pawing at him now, removing the clothes on his body rapidly and with a firm motion that screamed out how conflicted he was.

“N-No!” Harry sobbed out, though he wasn’t really sure whether he was protesting liking Zayn or being violently undressed. His hands came up to try and fight back, showing how dazed he really was to actually try and question Louis.

“You’re mine, you fucking slut!”

There was a loud slap, then a bang, some muffled shouting and then Louis was being dragged off his body. Harry stayed down though, not about to sit up under such circumstances until he was told otherwise.

//

Zayn wasn’t too sure why he had felt the need to run to Niall immediately after Louis had gone towards the hostage’s room. Maybe it was the knowledge that the leader of Tomlinson Corp wouldn’t stop at a simple answer from the teen, and there was only one person in the house who could do legitimately _anything_ with little repercussion.

“Niall!” The tan male busted through the blonde’s door, feeling a rising anxiety in his chest that he wasn’t quite understanding.

“Wha’ tha’ fuck are yeh doin’, Z? Iss almost time fer me ta drink an’ get some sleep!” The blonde snapped from where he laid on his own green patterned bed. He wiped at his nose before motioning to the unopened bottle of bacardi on his nightstand.

“You’ve gotta help, Niall.” The tone in the colored man’s voice made Niall straighten up just a bit in concern. He made a noise that pretty well expressed his curiosity, and the room intruder scoffed a bit to try and figure out how to phrase what was happening.

“I was with Harry, and he got all upset ‘cause Louis’ not been going near him, right? And he came to me and snuggled on me for a while. Then when I came out- Louis was all drunk and pissed off. I think he’s gonna hurt him, Ni. You’ve gotta help!” The blonde actually hopped right up from the mattress, taking off immediately towards the hostage’s room.

//

When Harry finally had the guts to look up, the sight before him confused him greatly. Niall was in his room, though he was holding a distressed Louis back and away from the bed. The brunette had stopped fighting, but there were still a few jerks and twitches that were followed by slow, shallow, and almost howl-like sobs. What in the hell...?

Within moments, they were both gone, and the door was left wide open. The intrigue was strong but... Harry knew better. Instead of attempting any sort of escape, he went and coiled back up in bed, trying to close his eyes and forget what he had seen. This was, yet again, another morbidly traumatizing experience he had been through within a week.

//

The next morning, Harry awoke to two short knocks on the door, He lifted his curly head groggily and watched the exit of his room. Someone had come to shut it and lock him in during the night, obviously, and now the visitor on the other side actually cared to alert him before barging in--unlike how it was done in the past. He finally squeaked out a little, ‘yes’ before the door swung open to expose the ruffled image of Louis Tomlinson.

The man was still in his pyjama bottoms--a pair of basketball shorts--and looked as though he hadn’t slept at all. The great locks of hair sticking in all directions and the rings under his eyes were a testament to that. Harry shuffled upright, drawing his knees to his chest and appearing a little nervous as the elder came and took a commanding seat beside him. Despite the disheveled appearance, there was still an unspoken amount of control deep inside the man, and it kept the hostage sitting upright and attentive.

“I am here to apologize for last evening.” He said quietly, though there was a tone behind it that didn’t make much sense. It was regretful, but simultaneously enraged. When Harry didn’t speak, the mobster took it as his cue to continue.

“I was irritated that you nestled so close with Zayn,” the honesty disturbed even himself, “I don’t want you to like him more than me.” Harry shifted uncertainly, well aware of the strange--almost childish--tone that was now laced in the elder’s speech. He clasped his hands in his lap, watching Louis expectantly.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” The blue eyes narrowed now, all traces of weakness or childishness absent from his voice. Harry looked a little surprised before he shook his head no. It was easy to tell that this was the wrong answer by the way that the slender brunette began to inhale and exhale a little deeper--more rapid. To correct his mistake, the curly boy quickly coaxed his voice out into the quiet room.

“I’m sorry that I curled up on him...” his voice was tentative, but it kept Louis from flying off the handle, “I’ve been lonely since being here... What- with you not being around very much...-” He could sense Louis’ desire to be needed and was playing it, even if it was more true than he’d like to admit. As he expected, the blue eyes softened and Haz could tell he was listening.

The soft glaze dancing in the elder’s eyes was comforting in a way--perhaps it was the hangover or the way that Harry’s slow voice was hypnotising him--but it showed that maybe a little bit of Louis’ wall was being knocked down.

“Go on.” Louis murmured quietly.

“Uh-” he wasn’t sure where to go from there, but he sucked in a deep breath and continued, “I like you very much, even if sometimes you aren’t very nice to me and you leave me by myself or with Zayn.” Harry took a deep breath, pretty frightened by this point as he had known the other to be a bit of a loose cannon if nothing else. What was more surprising than anything was that the elder looked like he was about to cry. The teenager was on a roll, and with a determined intake of air, he continued.

“Why won’t you come and see me?” This left Louis teetering on the edge of self control, and for a moment, the younger thought he was about to be struck. That was when the mobster only smiled, shutting his eyes and giving a low chuckle.

“Because you make me feel.” He stated simply, as though it were the obvious answer. Louis leaned in, pressing a careful kiss to the younger’s temple, right where Zayn had kissed him the night prior. It was almost like some sort of possession--if he kissed that exact spot, he was the dominant leader.

“I have business to attend to today, Haz. I’ll see you this evening--you will be called to dine with me. Does that sound alright?” With a dumb nod, Louis left the room and Harry simultaneously, locking the door behind him.

//

Back at Styles’ Corp, things were getting hairy. The leader of the family had fallen gravely ill in what seemed like the short span of one night. One minute, he’s up and about to gather funds for his son’s ransom, the next he’s hacking up blood into a napkin. The rush to find Styles’ Junior was more heated than ever, and the leader of the expedition was far too sick to continue. Gemma was placed as the leader of the search, considering she was the next in line for the company’s throne after the missing lad, and she took it upon herself to bring her brother home no matter what.

//

Zayn’s morning had been stressful as all hell. The night before when Niall had so willingly interrupted their boss’ touch-fest had left the dark skinned man quaking in his shoes. How pissed was Louis going to be? What sort of punishment would he experience? After the blonde had pried his employer off of Harry, he’d taken the man straight to bed and as far as the thug was aware, a heavy sleep ensued. Zee had slept horribly, tossing and turning and expecting the leader to burst through the door at any moment with a pistol to blow his head off. The bang never came, and the night only resulted in terrible rest, leaving him wide eyed and uncomfortable in the wee hours.

The next few hours were awkward. Louis padded back and forth twice to the victim’s door, pausing with his hand up each time to knock sharply at the wood. Zayn only knew this because he had shamefully peeked out of his cracked door to see if the master was on his way to end him. No one would’ve known or stopped him had the Arabic man not interfered... Even so, the only thing on Lou’s mind was Harry, and it eased the tension to know that.

Even having Niall around wasn’t as awful as usual, and since Louis wasn’t stocked with so much free time any longer since he was busy pining over Harry, the blonde was ready to spend some time together.

“I’m s’rprised he hesn’t killed ye yet.” The accent was off-hand, almost as though it was in hindsight as four thumbs patted relentlessly on a playstation controller. Zayn wasn’t about to agree nor disagree, because Niall was the eyes and ears of the house, but he was losing and that frustrated him.

“I’m surprise I haven’t killed you.” The reply was swift and heated as another goal was made by the blonde, past his own pixelated character. The darker of the two gave a low grunt, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. He was stressed, anxious, and above all--should not be losing to this lunatic.

“‘M right here.” Niall replied, scoring another goal and cackling when Zayn tossed the controller down and claimed he was going to go smoke a fag.

It was at that moment that Louis came parading out of the back door, looking a bit distressed yet confident. Zayn tried to blend in with the wall--to become one with the wall--but it was harder than chameleons made it look and their eyes met shortly after. The master tucked his hands in his front pockets, face hardening a bit.

“Uh- thanks, Zayn.” He stated softly, his tone that of someone who wanted others to believe he was in a perfect state of mind when he might not be so... Mighty. The younger only tilted his head, eyes flicking away from his employee.

“What for?” He couldn’t stop it. The words tumbled from his lips so rapidly that he couldn’t control them. What on Earth would Louis be thanking him for? He had disobeyed direct orders and stopped the brunette from doing whatever it was that he had wanted.

“I never wanted to hurt him.” That was all Louis allowed him before he left, climbing into his nice rover and driving off.

//

Niall padded to the camera room quietly, watching the curly haired boy in his room as he read from one of the books he’d been gifted by their master. A pink tongue darted out to wet his lips before he left to do a bit of grunt work outside.

//

The evening was just setting in when Louis pulled back up to the compound, a sack of pounds and a little box in his hands. He took a few steps in, immediately barking at Zayn to collect their ‘guest’ and have him dressed for dinner. At the very least, the employee was glad to have his old snappy boss back because that emotional business did not bode well for anyone.

He quickly went to do as he was ordered, letting himself into Harry’s room and having him dress in that outfit that their master had loved so very much. He smiled a bit as he smoothed out the long v-neck shirt, strutting for just a moment for good measure as well. It had been quite some time since he had been allowed to dress nicely and present himself. At the very least he was able to shower every day--but there was something totally vindicating about looking nice and _knowing_ it.

Harry was brought out of his room for the first time since arriving, almost having that same euphoric feeling that the outside had brought him only two weeks ago. His eyes darted around to look at every painting, every piece of paneling that was pinned to make the house look lovely--he wanted to remember it.

The dinner table was set for two, and Zayn directed the curly lad to a chair and pulled it out graciously for the teenager to sit down. Upon doing so, the man of the hour entered, and Harry quickly directed all of his attention to the Tomlinson leader. It wasn’t as though Louis had earned anything from him--in fact, if anything, Harry should have hated that stupid man--but everything from the sparkling blue eyes to the ugly brown patch on the uniform had the teen trapped. The brunette sat down, looking forever in control as he took his napkin from the table and tucked it against his lap.

“Set your napkin on your thighs.” Louis said evenly, not even meeting the younger’s eyes as he took his salad knife and began to eat delicately. Curls bounced a moment as Harry moved rapidly to meet the other man’s request, clumsily fitting his napkin against his jeans. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t used to fancy meals, but this was just a little different.

“Like this, sir?” He didn’t need Louis to tell him he’d done it right, but he wanted praise. He wanted the man to talk to him, whether it was good or bad or indifferent. Even so, his companion humored him and even sat up a little to inspect the younger’s lap.

“That’s wonderful.” The use of sir and the initiation to conversation sparked the master’s interest, and he could almost feel himself falling into that state of relaxation that only Harry could ignite in him. They chatted on a while, mostly Louis asking the teenager various questions about his life and veering away from the idea that he was a victim of a high penalty crime and deliberately not inquiring about his feelings since the unexpected stay.

“So your mother was an English teacher? How did that influence your childhood?” The tone of his voice was that of interest, and Harry was more than happy to oblige.

“Well, I think it gave me a pretty good basis of the language, yeah? You don’t hear me using too much slang, so she must have done something right.” The teenager smiled, sipping water from his dinner glass and taking a nibble of the nicely roasted chicken. Louis hummed, already finished with his meal as he leaned forward over the table, chin in hand as he gave the younger his full attention.

“That is true. Very deliberate words,” he commented, reaching to sip softly at the red wine he’d requested shortly after dinner had begun, “tell me more about her.” Harry hesitated only a moment before delving deep into the memories of his mother’s favorite clothes and colors, how he remembered her loving the sunlight and tending a small flower garden in their compound. The master listened, even if he didn’t care, and after a few moments he found himself getting a little fuzzy in the head.

“That’s wonderful.” He hummed, reaching out to trace a little curl over Harry’s forehead in an attempt to tuck it back.

“Yeah. I miss her a lot.” The younger mumbled, setting his fork down as the fingers traced over his skin. Louis always had this weird control about him, even if he was buzzed from wine or docile as a door mouse. Green flicked to blue and there was a very sudden silence before the man leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the corner of the other boy’s mouth.

Everything that Louis had done to hurt him, from kidnapping him and bringing him off with that shameful toy, seemed to mean absolutely nothing. He sat very still, letting the brunette place affectionate little pecks over his cheeks and lips, dimples showing slightly as he couldn’t hold back the smile.

“I’m sorry I’ve not come to see you.” Louis mumbled lowly, and before the other could push it off as unimportant, another kiss was pressed against his mouth.

As soon as Harry attempted to respond, the master was pulling away, an unreadable expression on his face.

“In a few days, you’ll be back at home and you’ll never see me again.” The man murmured, and there was a sudden dip in the mood as Harry felt ready to implode.

“What do you mean?”

“I meant what I said.” Louis hissed, suddenly going from mellow and affectionate to buzzed and ticked. The younger flinched away from the anger, and the older man looked almost apologetic before he shook his head and tucked the napkin away on top of the table.

“Get to your room.”

With that, the elder tumbled away and Zayn entered to lead the hostage back to his bedroom, ignoring questions about what ‘he said’ and why he ‘wouldn’t be there anymore’. The tan male nearly had to undress Harry and redress him in his pyjamas before the younger finally began to cooperate.

“I suppose I should get home anyway... My father is probably sending out the calvalry...” It was an off-handed statement, though Zayn knew well what sort of trouble Styles’ Sr. had gone through. He nodded appropriately and tucked the kid away as though he were a small child.

“That’s right.” He murmured, reaching up to run a hand through the teenager’s hair before leaving the room and locking the door for the night. Louis didn’t stay up much longer either. Despite the sickening feeling that occurred when he considered losing the younger, he couldn’t keep himself awake. The alcohol, while in a small amount, was coursing through him and making him insufferably comfortable. Zayn tuned into the game on the tube and zoned out.

Niall made his way again to the victim’s bedroom, slipping the key from his sleeve and observing him for a few moments before leaving, whispering a malicious good night.


	7. Short Unpleasantries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unpleasant news comes in from Styles Corp, and Zayn and Louis are on a day out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this sucks so bad! I promised a chapter by today and I just didn't have time to get it up to the word count I would have liked! A bit of a filler, bros!

Louis couldn’t even comprehend what he was hearing. In fact, his jaw was so slack that he wasn’t even sure that a cran could close his mouth. It took him a moment of complete silence to regain his bearings.

“You’re certain? This is something that _has_ happened? This is a deal you _want_ to make with me?” He spun around on his chair, glancing at the shadow of light from under the door showing that Niall was on the other side listening in. It wasn’t like the master of the house _cared_. He would have told his number one henchman about this conversation sooner or later. There was a murmuring from the voice on the other end, and Louis scribbled down a few figures on a pad of paper.

“Yes. That’s certainly acceptable. Of course I’d prefer to meet in person to close such a deal, you understand. Over the phone isn’t too safe.” There were a few ‘mhm’s and ‘uh huh’s before the phone was hung up on both ends and Lou stewed for a few moments, not even responding to the little knock on the door before the soft clicking of a door opening spread through the room.

“What’s goin’ on?” Niall’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and for a second, he considered shooing the blonde away. However, it just wasn’t worth the nagging man bothering him nonstop for the next few days.

“Harry won’t be going home anytime soon.”

////

“So, I thought I’d be home by now.” Harry and Zayn were sitting together outside in the back of Louis’ compound. It had been nearly a week since the dinner he’d had with his captor, and even though he’d been told he’d be home soon, it was still quite a mess and he was still locked away like a giant secret. The tan male glanced to him from where he sat on the blanket they’d pulled outside for their picnic and gave a little hum.

“It’s... Complicated,” he began with a careful tone in his voice, interlocking his fingers together as he spoke, “but I can’t say much more than that.” It was a lame finish, but it wasn’t an unusual one. This wasn’t the first time Harry had asked about why he wasn’t being sent home yet, just like it wouldn’t be the first time if he asked about where Louis was or what sort of stuff he liked. The teen was laying on his back with his hands tucked behind his head, staring curiously at the overcast sky.

“You need to come up with more exciting ways to tell me that you can’t give me anymore information.” The tone in the younger’s voice wasn’t angry- in fact it was pleasant and gentle. It made his newly appointed guard uneasy, honestly. Zayn tensed a little where he sat as he considered what all this could really mean. The first was that Harry was getting truly upset- disconnecting from his current state of mind. The second, and far much more likely scenario, was that the boy was growing used to his surroundings. He was growing used to seeing these walls, used to answering to Zayn; even growing used to Niall’s crude jokes and heavy accent. It was stressful to the tan male to consider that this could really be where Harry was ending up.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dark, narrowed eyes scanned over the protective fencing around the building, sighing unhappily at how unwelcome it made him feel. He glanced back to Harry watching as the teen appeared to be picking out shapes in the clouds.

“I know this is stupid,” Zayn rolled his eyes, well aware that if _Haz_ thought it was stupid, it probably was, “but when I go home, can we still be friends?” A frown crept over the elder’s face as he turned to look at the curly teen who was now watching him quite intently.

“Harry, you know that I can’t...” he would have been okay to bluntly destroy the kid’s dreams in the beginning, but right now- damn, he was just in too deep, “you know... I think we could make it work... If you’re good at keeping secrets.”

“I’m great at secrets!” Harry’s face lit up like a lightbulb as he spoke, shifting to lay on his side.

“You’ll have to teach me then.” You fucking liar, Zayn. You’re the best secret keeper in the world. Twat. Cunt. Loser. Asshole.

////

Back at Styles’ Corp, some big changes were being made. The place was being decorate for some sort of event. Large trucks with a myriad of flowers were traipsing over the pavement, and chairs were being set up at each end of the compound. It would have been beautiful, had the timing not been so wrong. On each wall there was a large screen, and on each screen a large message was written. It was a simple date. A date for that coming Sunday four days away. It was stark black and white, but elegant all the same.

////

Harry hadn’t seen Louis in a long time again. He was beginning to get frustrated. In fact, all in all, he’d only seen his kidnapper twice since the dinner they’d shared. Once to give Harry a small token- a stone-, and the second time to come in and chat with him momentarily about the state of his room and how it was becoming a bit of a mess. It seemed surreal, not like Louis was ever really around that much to begin with, to have such usual and brief meetings.

In fact, the time had been so free of incident lately that the curly lad wasn’t even sure if he was in the same place anymore. Even Niall had gone somewhat normal, which was probably the most unsettling fact of all. Sure, the little fucker was still creepy as hell, but he wasn’t _doing_ anything anymore.

Honestly, the only thing that stayed constant was Zayn, and even if the situation was a little unusual on its own, Harry was happy to have his only friend.

////

Everything remained as it had been for a few more days, around four, and that was sort of when shit started to go down. Niall had been in that morning to offer him some breakfast and had informed him that, ‘Lou ‘n Zayn ‘re out fer tha day, so I guess tha’ makes us new buddehs, huh?’ Harry had only cocked his head in confusion because, since when did Louis and Zayn go out? And if it was normal, why was Niall telling him about it?

“Alright. Thanks.” He took the tray- a pretty nice array of fruit, cold cereal and pancakes-before padding over to his desk to eat it. He felt a bit of an ominous, dreadful feeling seep into him, and he had to wriggle a moment to try and let it pass. Then it hit him. Niall was never really trusted alone with him since... The “incident” on the first night he’d been at the Tommlinson compound. So now, after a streak of normalcy, suddenly Zayn and Louis were leaving together and Psycho was being left alone with the abductee? There was a soft tingling sensation up his neck, his hair following suit and raising on end as he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder.

“It’s goin’ ta be alright, Harreh.” His muscles tensed, fingers gripping tightly to the glass of orange juice he’d picked up. Everything was _not_ okay, okay? It was as though Niall felt him tense and he immediately took his hand away.

“I’ll check on ye later.” The blonde murmured, offering a comforting smile that Harry didn’t trust for a split second before he headed out of the bedroom door.

He felt the younger with a very conflicted emotion battering the inside of his guts, and while Harry ate, he wondered vaguely if there was anything with enough weight to block his door during the next few hours until Zayn and Louis came home.


	8. Bye Bye Birdie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall is alone in the house with Harry for the first time while Zayn and Louis make some business dealings regarding their new house mate's future.

Perhaps it was the dread in his body that made him feel as though time were ticking by at half pace. He couldn’t really help it- it kind of felt like being stuck in the middle of some sort of horror film. That point where the victim realizes he or she is trapped in a large house with a murderer or an abuser of some sort that was let loose inside. The only difference being that he was locked away in a bedroom that the attacker had all sorts of control over. Harry had kind of barricaded his door with his oaken chair by tucking the back of the wooden seat at an angle under the doorknob, but it brought him no solace. Niall sort of struck him as the type of guy that would resort to cutting his door down with a fire axe before admitting defeat anyway.

////

Meanwhile, Louis and Zayn sat at a cafe with an elegant red headed woman who looked more nervous than anything else. Even if she was nervous though, she spoke with a steady voice and tried to maintain a sense of control despite not knowing a damn thing about what she was doing.

“I’m afraid I don’t really understand, or trust, your intentions.” Louis crossed his legs, watching the groups around them uncertainly. It wasn’t as though they were any real threat from what he could tell. The people around them were all young hipster looking teenagers who were far more interesting in instagramming their rice cake than paying any mind to the deed to a kid’s soul beside them.

“Look, Tomlinson. I don’t want him to come back.” Her voice was more steady now; what was there to lose, anyway? She’d already shown her face, shown her chequebook, and more importantly, she could see the apprehension was more from concern for Harry’s well being rather than personal gain.

“He’s been dreaming of going back ever since he got here, Miss. I’ve promised him a lot of things. I may be a thief and a cheat, but I actually try to avoid lying. So tell it to me how it is, right? Maybe if you’re honest, we can make a deal.” It wasn’t even about her telling him the truth, he was just being a bit of a nib shit as to why she wouldn’t want his little house guest to go home.

“Because without him, I take over. I’ll be the leader of the family, and I’m willing to make it very much worth your while.”

////

It didn’t take long for Harry to completely lose his mind while locked away in his bedroom. His panic had nearly taken over in the wait for Niall to come back and gut him like an animal (or whatever it was Niall did), and by the by he was about ready to kill a man in a fight or flight situation. It was probably the flatlining his heart did when the lock clicked in the door and the handle jiggled, stopping with a thud upon hitting the door.

He held his breath and moved to grab something-anything heavy-which happened to be a thick novel he’d been attempting to read over the past few weeks. He’d never known he could be ready for literally anything until now.

“Harry.” Niall’s voice was calm and controlled on the outside of the door, but the jiggling of the handle increased in violence and speed. The curly lad stayed silent, hoping foolishly that he could wait out the storm and that the other man would just walk away.

“You don’ wanna play this game wit’ me, Styles.” The accent grew thicker, the tone full of warning, but Harry stayed still, figuring that even the slightest movement would alert Niall and ignite more passion and anger. He stood poised by the door, ready to konk the blonde hard on the head as soon as his blockade was trampled, but then the sound ebbed away. The door knob stayed still and the Styles’ teen stood in absolute silence, his heart pounding into his throat. With a quick movement, he knelt to the ground to peek under the door. No feet...

For years to come, Harry would be thanking the holy living deity-whoever He or She may have been- that he had crouched down. In his absence, the Irishman deemed it necessary to grab a shotgun from somewhere inside the house and blow it off right at the wooden flap, shattering it right off the frame. Amidst the loud bang, whirring bullet and a sea of splintering wood chips was Niall, standing across the hall and holding the shotgun that seemed to be larger than the man himself.

When the victim had started this game of cat and mouse, he could have never imagined this. With his ears ringing and eyes slightly unfocused, he waited. Their eyes finally met, terror to unsettlingly maniacal, and that was when it happened. To the surprise of both of them, Harry lunged up and over the remaining few inches of the base of the door and took off in a dead sprint. The blonde was so shocked at the sudden exit that he couldn’t quite decide how to react. That didn’t last long, though. Within seconds, he’d pressed an emergency button on the wall under an inconspicuous power breaker flap which locked all the doors and windows leading to the outside and lifted his phone to send Louis a text message.

‘weve got a runner, boss. xxNi’

////

When the phone in his pocket went off, Louis only took a chance to glance at it idly. Upon seeing the name, he tucked it back away into his pocket. What he was in the middle of was far more important than Niall asking if he was going to bring home a new box of hot pockets. This was to do with Harry’s future, which meant more to him than he thought it did.

////

It wasn’t as though the lights were connected to the locks on the windows and doors, but for some reason, the blonde felt it fitting that he shut off the rest of the power. The lights dimmed out, leaving the only illumination coming in from the windows. The weather in England was always poor though, and allowed for very little light in the hallways. Harry was stumbling through the halls, finding a door and attempting to pull at it. The handle was stuck- he tugged hard to no avail. His heart hammered rapidly, eyes darting around as he tried to decide where to go.

“C’mere, little bird.” A sing song voice floated menacingly through the air followed by the cocking of the gun, sending a shiver up the curly lad’s spine as his head spun to lead him further away from the voice. The thin hallways confused him--he wasn’t used to the homely surroundings since he was trapped away in his bedroom usually--and the hotel that Style’s corp was based in was spacious and full of space to breathe and expand in. This was cozy and house-like despite its size, the corridors giving him a suffocating sense of claustrophobia. Finally, he sidestepped into a closet, shutting the door quickly but carefully to avoid giving away his position.

He drew his knees to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting in the most agonizing silence of his entire life. It was cold on top of it- he must have passed through into a separate part of the home; one that was closer to the outside. The ground was hard and cold- almost like cement. When had it changed? He wasn’t sure.

“Come on- Ni’s gon’ make yeh chirp...” The voice was growing louder, and soon Harry could hear the footsteps padding closer along with a metallic scraping sound. Through the dim slats of the closet door, he saw the form of the Irishman padding by, the gun dragging behind him. Harry held his breath, clutching his knees and digging his short nails into his skin through his flannel pyjama pants. He stayed quiet, not even breathing as his heart pounded audibly in his chest; he could only assume that it was going to lead the elder to his hiding spot. Despite it all, Niall kept walking onward, yelling stuff about birds and laying claims to his little pet.

////

After leaving the cafe, Zayn insisted on sitting down and having a little chat. What would they tell him? What was he allowed to say, and instructed to keep secret. Louis had hummed in thought, sipping on his coffee he’d purchased just before leaving, then insisted they keep the whole meeting quiet. Yeah- they went out, but it was business. It was business Harry didn’t belong in, even if it did concern him more than anyone else. With that, there wouldn’t be any references to the woman’s identity, to the event that caused it all, and to the entire plan at hand.

With a grave nod, Zayn had agreed.

////

Harry was cramping now, the uncomfortable position in the closet making him hunch forward uncomfortably and bite into his fingertips. The teen flicked his eyes back and forth, trying to determine if Niall was there and concentrating on any possible sound. It had been quiet now for nearly an entire day, which was more or less--in all actuality--about twenty minutes. He leaned forward, chancing the loud crack in his bones as he tried to peek outside. Nothing. The coast was clear. If he could just make it to a door, he could get out. While he knew he’d probably end up caught, at least he wouldn’t be caught by Niall. (Or if he did, at least his death would be quick.)

The abductee leaned up, putting his hand on the knob and twisting it slowly, wincing at the loud twisting whine--did Louis even oil these doors?--before slinking out. If he thought it was nerve wracking in that closet, he didn’t understand the meaning of the word. It was like in those novels where the walls were closing in, choking a person indiscriminately until they passed out and were overcome by the villain. He tiptoed forward, not really even remembering which direction Niall had taken off in as he trotted along the concrete flooring.

It was getting darker in the building, as though he was passing into an area without any windows to let in even partial lighting. It was pitch black now, and Harry had to fight to control his breath. He continued to step carefully, unable to contain the yelp that escaped as his skin collided with something hard and metal in- wherever he must have been. A tinny ringing sound from the collision mingled with his voice, and he clamped his hand over his mouth in positive terror. Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead and that inevitable sound of scuffling ensued from wherever Niall was.

A figure stood in the dimly lit hallway behind him, and the cock of a shotgun was heard.

“Bye bye, Birdie.” His heart plummeted, mouth going dry as he realized that Niall had him- Niall was going to turn him into a giant red splatter on the wall, and he could do nothing about it. His hands furled in his flannel bottoms and he grit his teeth, not really ready to accept any of this, but ready to stop running.

////

Louis and Zayn were finally on their way home. They each wore pretty uncertain faces and occasionally glanced at one another only to look away. The driver noticed the tense silence, but he was a pretty good cabbie and wouldn’t question it verbally. Besides, the man in the back--the smaller one--was pretty infamous and unsettling. He let the two men off at the back of the compound by the garage as per Louis’ request and drove off, feeling a weight lifted now that the mobster was out of his cab.

He clicked a small button, the garage door lifting and shining light on the nightmarish scene before him; Harry clinging desperately with a bloodied leg to the back of his Maserati and Niall aiming a fully loaded shotgun at both his pet and his baby. The two lads in the garage shop twisted their heads around, squinting as though they hadn’t seen light in a good couple hours before Harry was running at him with big wet eyes, his arms outstretched. Except for when he completely bypassed Louis, that was, and instead sprinted to Zayn, wrapped his arms around the stunned guard’s waist and proceeded to weep against his suit jacket.

Niall had dropped the gun in the background, sending off an accidental shot right into the door of the Maserati.

////

“I think it’s only appropriate, for the time being, that he stays in my room.”

“Louis, is that really… Kosher?” Zayn mumbled, a little jealous that he hadn’t been picked for the task first since he and the curly boy were so close.

“It is. Niall isn’t afraid of you or any of the other guards, but he’s afraid of me. He wouldn’t dare touch Harry on my grounds-”

“I don’t get why he’s even still around.”

“Harry escaped his room. He was really only following protocol.”

“That’s the loosest protocol I’ve ever heard of,” the snap of the darker lad startled Louis into paying more attention, “and he’s on lockdown for what--two days?” The elder shifted slightly, his eyes flicking away for a moment in consideration.

“We have a long history…”

Zayn stormed out at that point, fists curled as elsewhere in the master’s chambers, and overwhelmed curly teen caught some much needed rest.


	9. Insincere Sincerity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry gets a lovely present from an old friend and so many rules are broken that Lou would shit in his britches if he knew. Look forward to Larry date night in next chapter!

It had taken Harry a good while to calm down enough to sleep. The fact that he’d almost been blown into thousands of little pieces hadn’t settled well with him. That and- he was in Louis’ room, of all places. How could he concentrate in there? The better question was, how could he still seem so infatuated with a man who had single handedly (aside from Zayn; perhaps Zayn could be a finger,) ruined his entire life? The truth was that… Maybe he felt as though Louis had saved him in some way. Taken him away from this mundane life, given him all the books he could have ever asked for, didn’t demand him to train physically, and hell; he had just saved him from being obliterated by a shotgun, had he not?

On top of everything else, Harry had begun to relax about going home. He hadn’t heard a word about any arrangements, and he had stopped worrying. It was a slight nag of course, every now and again, but… Was this place really so bad? (A resounding ‘yes’ from the chorus, please.) If Niall were gone it would be some sort of utopia. Especially with the sweet smell of Louis pervading his senses as he buried his nose into the mobster’s pillows. For such a badass, he sure smelled very nice. Effeminate yet masculine cologne, mixed with the smell of some sort of fruit-scented shampoo that was too light for him to pick out sent him off into his dreamscape, hiding from the world in a flurry of duvet and sweet thoughts.

////

“Stupid little Irish fucker-” Zayn’s grumbling went unnoticed by the people in the bookshop around him, “following protocol- shove your fist in your ass, you scum-ass piece of ‘craic’ trash!” He had been sent by Louis to the bookstore to pick up some more reading material for Harry. He hadn’t been sent out for this since before the curly lad had even come to live with them. It was almost like the boss was trying to apologize for the situation by getting him a book on dragons. The Bradford Native sighed and flipped through a few pages slowly before he was tapped gently on the shoulder. With an even greater sigh, one that said, ‘I’m busy, tha fuck do you want’, he turned. Right there- right in front of him- was a very familiar, very beautiful, human being. His brow furrowed in recognition, but he didn’t have time to figure it out as the stranger’s fist was drawn back.

In retaliation, he lifted his own hand to catch the fist in question, his eyes round and confused as the other struggled against him. He was strong, but Zayn was fast- and this stranger was fighting with emotion rather than skill. He attempted a few more punches that the Tomlinson member easily deflected before a strangled noise of upset flew from his mouth. Zayn only gaped openly, not understanding what the hell was going on in the slightest. He’d be perfectly okay with knocking this guy out, but he knew he’d be kicked out of the damn bookstore for doing it, and Louis would be beyond pissed if he didn’t come back with any reading material. Instead, he glanced around to ensure that no one had taken too much notice of their quiet combat outside their bookshelf and pinned his attacker against a rather uncomfortable, uneven looking row of books.

It was then that he realized where he knew this guy from. He felt pathetic that it had taken this long- that having Harry around had distracted him so much that he couldn’t even pinpoint a man he had studied for weeks before the kidnapping. This was the personal trainer, that ‘Liam’ that had worked for Harry’s father. A sweeping sense of pity washed over him as he took note of the man’s pretty features so distorted in despair. The hair atop his head, slightly longer in length than the sides, had fallen from the gel that had encased it and brushed across his forehead, another image of his helplessness and uncertainty. Zayn felt an unbelievable urge to reach up and tuck it away as he would do to a stray curl of Harry’s, but quelled himself. Instead, he let Liam gently back onto his feet, giving a slightly aggravated sigh, much like a bull in a ring with a very irritating mastador.

“Come on then- what’s stopping you?” Liam was nearly shouting now, wiping angrily at the frustrated wetness at the corner of his eyes. He looked more confused than anything as Zayn lifted a hand to shush him, his brows furrowed. 

“Shut up. I’m just here to get some books for him, okay?”

At the mention of Harry; Him, the trainer’s back bristled and he seemed to remember what he was here for in the first place. His hands curled into fists as he again tried to puff up and look threatening.

“Where is he?!” Zayn continued to check through the binds of books to find something mildly interesting, and as a side note, he figured Louis should have sent someone who actually liked to read.

“I’m no idiot, Payne, and neither are you. You know very well that I can’t disclose that information.” He picked out a ‘best seller’, thumbing through the pages and sighing miserably at the block text that he didn’t want to read. Liam shifted awkwardly, coming to terms with the fact that he was too upset to fight and knowing that Zayn wasn’t exactly wrong. He paused a moment, looking like he was weighing his options before speaking quietly.

“Harry won’t like those,” he motioned to the bound book in Zayn’s hands, “well, he will. But I’m sure he’s missing the stuff he has back at home.” The darker man looked to Liam now, an expressive interest glinting in his eyes, only to fall into agitation as the other man didn’t disclose any information.

“And what good does that do for me if you won’t tell me what kind of books they are?” He snapped, returned to the edge and totally untrusting of this man even though he could see the adoration brimming in those puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll bring every last book filled to the last word with sentimental value. You can tell Tomlinson whatever you need to about how you got them. It’ll make Harry so happy he’ll practically piss in his britches,” he paused, watching his arch-guard inflate with visible excitement at the idea, “if you let me see him.”

////

Operation “Allow Liam to See Harry in Exchange for Books of Extreme Sentimental Value” was underway. Zayn had convinced Louis to go early for a meeting with the local woodsmith in his stead (and did that take an awful lot of convincing) to get Harry’s door remade. The only other issue was Niall. Granted he was locked away in his bedroom, but the little bastard was totally insane. Who knew what could happen if he heard one wrong voice in the compound?

“Come on.” He shuffled Liam forward, his demeanor incredibly nervous. He’d had to drive the Styles’ employee in from town with a blindfold to ensure their anonymity wasn’t compromised. Now he was inching the man inside, finally removing the bandana as the door shut behind them. The visitor stayed quiet as Zayn lead him inside, down a few winding hallways until they reached a door that was slightly larger and painted darker than the others. With a shaking hand, he reached into his right pocket and pulled out a key, slipping it into the lock and then carefully pulling the door open.

A curly head swivelled from the large bed in the center of the room where a teenager sat up, watching a film on a large flat screen television. Scattered around in the duvet were bottles of water, antibiotics and bandages for his leg where he’d collided at full force with the maserati. Green eyes widened with delight upon seeing Zayn before they narrowed in confusion at the second person. It wasn’t a guard, and it definitely wasn’t Niall.

“Li?”

////

The reunion was pretty rushed, as unfortunate as it was, and it seemed like as soon as Liam and Harry had broken from their intense embrace, (which was more or less the teenager clinging to his old trainer tight and his trainer laughing and ruffling curls) he was leaving. Which wasn’t entirely true. Zayn allowed the two to catch up for a few minutes before he really had to usher the other outside.

“He’ll be back any minute,” he’d said with a hint of worry, “I’m already going to have to destroy camera footage- he’d kill us both if he came in right now.” With a reluctant pout, Harry had taken another hug from Liam and quickly asked how his family was doing. With a very grim expression, Li went to speak, but was cut off by a sharp elbow in his side from Zayn and a warning expression.

Surprisingly, Liam paused, pushing the Tomlinson guard away with furrowed brows and intending to speak again before a sense of realization came over him and he shushed himself.

“They’re doing well enough, Harry.”

The teenager frowned, sensing the insincerity in his friend’s voice. He took a breath to reply, but Zayn shushed him as well, ushering the visitor from the room, locking it, and leading him back outside, where the blindfold came back up.

“He’s well fed and taken care of, alright, Liam?” Zayn grumped from behind the steering wheel, his fingers tightening on the leather device.

“Yeah,” Liam sat with his elbow against the window, cheek in his palm as he toyed with the fabric of the blindfold, “I guess.” He tapped the fingers of his other hand against his thigh, distracting Zayn from the road momentarily. Harry’s old trainer was… Pretty attractive.

“How will I get the books?”

“Park a few blocks away. I’ll pick them up. Tell her I’m going to burn them. She’ll be thrilled.” There was a new tone in Liam’s voice now- disgust and anger.

“Fair enough.”

////

Liam made his way through the Styles’ hotel hallways with general ease, nodding here and there at the guards and trying to remain generally unsuspicious and undetected. He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and casually strolled up to the younger’s old bedroom, pressing the door open and peeking inside.

“Master Liam?”

The voice startled him so badly in his state of surreptitiousness that he felt his heart nearly stop. He spun on his heels to see the elderly butler, Paul, who had always been so close with the young boy.

“P-Paul- You startled me…” He clutched at the front of his shirt, smiling a little nervously.

“What are you doing in Master Harry’s room?” Paul sounded distant, nervous- as though the mere idea of Harry’s things being moved about made him sick.

“I-” foundHarryandcan’ttakehimhomebutIpromisedtobringhimhistextbooksbecauseit’sthebestIcando, “wanted to put Harry’s books into a school donation. It’s what he would’ve wanted.” It wasn’t the best of lies, but it wasn’t the worst of lies. The elder’s brows furrowed, his hands staying still at his sides like a proper butler when a normal man would fidget and twist.

“I’ve kept his room the way it has always been.” Paul insisted, his voice tugging at the edges of a family butler and a concerned father figure.

“I-,” Liam paused, for a second considering the fact that perhaps Harry’s caregiver should know what was really happening- he shook his head a little, blinking away the thought and receiving a strange look, “I very much doubt that Harry is coming home. I feel that we should do what is in his best interests. He would like his literature to go to a student who could not afford their own, would he not?” He reached to rest a comforting hand on Paul’s shoulder, and the man’s moustache twitched at the contact; a rare sign of an uncontrolled emotional response in the physical realm.

“You’re right, Master Liam,” why Paul called him as such, he would never know, “do as you wish.” He bowed his head, and Liam made a very quiet promise that the boy, and his books, would be home someday.

After a longer than expected wait time, Liam came back with an armful of- textbooks?

“What is this shit,” Zayn had exclaimed, checking through Chasing the Bullet With Cyanide and Why Can I and Why Can’t You?, a confused expression on his face, “I thought these were for his enjoyment? Not his… Downright pain!” He gaped to Liam, not understanding- anything- about books, nor about Harry as a reader. The trainer just looked exhausted.

“He’s an avid studier… He loved his class work more than anything else- just take them to him. I won’t disappoint.” Liam then stood, smacking the top of the guard’s car to see him off. With a huff, Zayn took off, still feeling like he got the shit end of this agreement.

////

When Zayn got back to the compound, Louis was already home. The mob boss was pacing back and forth in front of his own bedroom in a blind panic, pulling at his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. This was… Unusual.

“What’s with you?” Before he could even spit out all the syllables, his leader had yanked a hand to his mouth, shushing him loudly and almost violently. Zayn held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back in concern that Louis might just take his face off.

“I can’t go in there.” He mouthed dramatically, speaking in a hushed tone barely above a whisper as he motioned dramatically towards his bedroom. His lackey tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“Why not? It’s your bedroom…” He watched quietly, his arms wrapped around the box of books that Liam had given him for their guest.

“He’s in there,” Louis began before realizing he’d spoken in a louder tone and stopping quickly, glancing at his room to ensure that Harry hadn’t heard him.

“Well of course he is. You put him in there, remember?” It seemed almost surreal, really, to be able to speak with Louis this way. In the past, had he said anything like that to his boss, he probably would’ve been punched in the mouth. It was sort of amazing what a little curly haired green eyed boy could do to a man.

“Of course I did!” Tomlinson snapped, throwing his hands up in the air and sighing loudly, “But now he’s awake in there! I can’t just go in and then leave! He’ll try to talk to me!” He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, totally overwhelmed by all this. He’d seemed ridiculously on edge since putting Niall on lockdown, in all reality, but no one was going to mention that.

“Here.” Zayn reached out, startling his boss as he dropped the box of books into his now flailing arms.

“What’s this?” Louis demanded, popping the lid of the box and shoving the items around without really seeing anything.

“His old books from Styles’ Corp,” the guard was now looking pretty suave and sure of himself, feeling an odd sense of pride and superiority, “why don’t you take them in to him. Then say you’ve a place to go?” He felt like adding, ‘you’re kind of the boss here, I’m not sure why you’re even unsure about how to leave the room; you don’t owe him a reason’, but his luck was pretty high today. He didn’t want to risk really shoving the mobster over the edge. A moment of weakness was something to be cherished in this industry.

“How did you,” the beginning of the question sent a rush of fear to Zayn’s mind, but he easily kept up his demeanor as Louis trailed off. The magnitude of the gift seemed to resonate, “nevermind.” After that, the boss retrieved his key from his guard, having only allowed him to have it as he was the only one home alone with Harry. (Everyone else being far too untrustworthy; including a blonde Irishman on lockdown.)

////

“Harry?” After unlocking his room and finangling the large box of books in his arm, he managed to get inside to see his little guest curled up in his duvet with a film droning on his flatscreen. His eyes flicked momentarily to the film; The Shawshank Redemption, (was there anything more random or unexpected about this kid?) before he brought the books to Harry’s side. The curly lad seemed frozen, not expecting to see his friend (kidnapper) anytime soon. He scrambled to sit up, keeping Louis’ now very rumpled duvet around his shoulders.

“I’ve brought you something,” had Zayn heard it, his disdain would have flared and ego deflated, but that was okay. He opened the lid to the box, watching as Harry’s brows furrowed in curiosity before widening in absolute joy.

“My books…” He exclaimed, his eyes bright with excitement as he took one of the cheap paperbacks from the box, examining a message from someone on the inside cover. Louis had expected for the boy to tear up and cry at some point, but there was none of that as Harry instead held the book to his chest with a bright smile.

“They make you happy?” He asked curiously, picking up one of the musty old texts and flipping through it. There were notes and highlighted sections everywhere, making him wonder just how seriously Harry must have taken his studies. The younger nodded almost aggressively, looking back up to Louis with the biggest dimple filled smile he’d ever seen.

“Of course- I mean… They’re all special to me.” He bit his lip, taking out one of the little gifts Liam had given him, showing the little notes inscribed on the inside cover. “See- they’re presents. This one was for my birthday.” He offered Louis the unopened copy of the Hunger Games that his trainer had given him, looking like he didn’t quite want to let it go.

“I see…” Louis didn’t really seem to react very much, but his pet was happy and that was what was important. He moved to stand, setting the original book in his hand back into the box.

“Where are you going?”

The tone in Harry’s voice made him pause, and he turned his head slowly to make eye contact. This was what he was afraid of.

“I’ve some business to attend to.”

“Don’t you ever have time?” The rebuttle surprised him, as was probably obvious on his face, “I mean… You kidnapped me and brought me here right? Surely you could spare an hour or two on me.” He crossed his arms indignantly, and for a second, Louis had a flare of admiration. This kid was the son of a mobster, not a victim of one; after all this time away from the scene, he’d probably just forgotten his place.

“That’s a hefty and indirect accusation.” Louis replied shortly, keeping his amusement masked behind a stern face. For a second, Harry seemed to take his words back- considering that perhaps his boldness hadn’t been the smartest move. The master of the house paused a second before he shook his head a little.

“What do you want to do then?” The resignation in his tone was insincere, but Harry was well aware that he had won on this round.

“You have the whole day?”

“All for you.”

“I’ll think of something.”


	10. Cannes Ain't Got Nothing on us, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry have the day to themselves, just like he promised. This is smut. I am sorry. There is literally no plot development whatsoever. Hopefully smut suits your liking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a rough patch, but I'm hoping to get this story going again! I forgot how much I loved writing it! Look forward to more updates in the near future.

When Louis okayed spending a day with Harry, he hadn’t really expected it to escalate how it did. It started off easy enough- they sat down on the mobster’s bed and watched the ending of the Shawshank Redemption, and then Harry insisted more films. But he didn’t care to watch them on the flatscreen in his master’s room. He wanted to go into the theater. Zayn had told him about it one afternoon when he had been asking an overload of questions, and for some deep, unsettling reason, Louis didn’t say no.  
  
This lead to the current situation of the two of them sitting side-by-side in the viewing room in the overstuffed chairs (of which there were only seven or so), watching some random student film that he’d witnessed at a Cannes Film Festival a few years prior and enjoyed. Harry wasn’t quite as amused though. He didn’t understand the plot- theme- anything, and for a second, the mobster was getting tired of his quiet complaints. Then it sort of dawned on him that he was the master after all. “Shush it or I’ll send you back to your room, Styles.” This shut the younger up immediately, and that is when it happened- the first trickling feeling of guilt slid down his throat and spread through his guts like poison. Harry hunched in the seat beside him, his lip a bit jutted and hands wringing in his lap. He shouldn’t feel bad, right? He’d kidnapped the kid, sexually molested him on multiple occasions, and he was the king! This was his domain. However, for some reason or another, the aching feel of disdain continued to press through him. With a heavy sigh, he reached over to place his hand on Harry’s knee, watching as the head swiveled around to meet green with blue overcast in curiosity.

“Don’t pout. You look like a child.” The statement didn’t seem to help much, but the kid did put his lip back in his mouth at the least.

Harry was totally overwhelmed. He was no child! Just because he didn’t want to watch this crummy movie didn’t make him a child! The younger bit his lip, glancing down to Louis’ hand on his knee before his catlike mouth curved into a smirking grin.

“What is it?” That hand wavered nervously for a moment before Harry spoke.

“My room is your room.” He stated brightly with a happy little twist on the comfortable movie seats, his eyes bright and playful. For a moment, Louis was totally stunned. His room… Was Harry’s room now. He almost couldn’t take it. His cheeks flared up for a split second before he moved to pinch the inside of his pet’s leg very gently.

“Stop being so cheeky, you little shit.” But this time was different- there were more emotions in his tone rather than straight up irritation. Harry grinned, beyond excited as his attention lingered on his master a little longer before giving the stupid art film a second chance. They relaxed in comfortable silence for a few minutes before everything seemed to grow a little too comfortable for Louis. They were quickly becoming equals. They weren’t a master and his victim- they were being friendly. He frowned, peering down to the curly headed teen who seemed to be inching just a bit closer every couple of minutes. Hell, Harry was practically laying his head on his shoulder at this point.

And dear fucking God, it shouldn’t make Louis’ heart race like it does.

////

Harry was exploding inside. They were having such a nice time- they were comfortable, Louis was teasing him- they were experiencing a normal day, for Christ’s sake. Harry sighed in content, inching a little closer to the blue eyed man who had captivated his attention for the past couple months, his heart beating heavily in his chest. He had moved closer and closer, resting his cheek on Louis’ shoulder, wondering just how far he could get before he was shooed away. Would he really be sent back to the room? Would Louis really go off to do his work for that day and leave him? Yeah, probably.

The younger stayed quite still, hoping that maybe his advances had gone unnoticed. He thought he’d gotten away scot free, a little grin curling over his features when the rumbling under his cheek began, signalling that Louis was about to have words with him.

“Harold?” While it was, indeed, a step up from ‘Styles’, the use of his full name was nerveracking and ominous. He tilted his curly head up slowly, a very uncertain frown on his face to catch Louis’ gaze.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His heart sunk. This was it- shunned- back to the bedroom.

“I just- I just thought-” his world was flipping upside down- the acceptance he felt, the sheer comfort he’d finally achieved around Louis since the Futomaki Den- it was going to be stripped from him in four simple words. “Go to the room”. Which of course was why he was absolutely astounded at the four words that really slipped from his master’s mouth.

“Get in my lap."

////

He hadn’t intended to go that way. He’d never really planned on taking Harry to the private viewing room, nor had he ever planned on Niall losing his shit. Really, the only constant in this scenario was that he had definitely planned on taking the kid (for a short period) and now everything was in a “roll with it” situation. Instead of his intentional, ‘get off me or get out’ threat, he’d invited the kid onto his lap. This wasn’t going well for someone whose main intent was to _not_ grow irreversibly attached to the curly heir of Styles’ Corp. Something inside him, or possibly betwixt his thighs, was speaking for him instead now.

With the most confused expression he could muster, Harry climbed up into Louis’ lap with some guidance from the mobster’s slender hands, each leg on either side of the slender waist. This had all been so stressful on Lou. He’d lost sleep over his house guest. Not only was he financially set with money from (what he supposed could count as) human trafficking, but sometimes he’d toss and turn with dreams of that pretty little red lipped boy naked and panting below him. It was infuriating. Had it been anyone else- anyone but this slim boy in his lap- he probably would have just taken what he wanted. But Harry was special, wasn’t he? Louis had been infatuated much longer than he’d care to admit, and maybe that was partially why he’d gone through with it. Sure, Tomlinson compound was in desperate need of renovation, but he could acquire the money another way- one much quicker and with less difficulty. And maybe as his resolve was fading, hands beginning to rub and travel over the lanky torso, he was willing to admit this may have been more of a personal endeavor than anything else.

Louis regarded each little shiver, every little nip to that plush lower lip, every fucking flick of long eyelashes onto soft rounded cheeks-. He was enamored. His hands prodded up slowly under the flannel pyjama top the younger had worn since late the night before, and he traced studiously over the soft lining of muscle over the lad’s abdomen, up to the built pecs and trembling shoulders. It was oddly intimate, and this time, it seemed much more natural than it had when he’d slowly jacked the kid off in the Japanese restaurant.

“Do you like this?” He asked quietly, bright blue eyes flicking up to meet hazy green, an amused expression drawing across his face as he realized how wrecked Harry was just from some simple petting. The younger didn’t have a chance to answer before his shirt was being tugged over his head, a set of thin lips leaning in to press against his collar and lap all over, sucking little marks into his pretty pale skin.

“L-Lou…” He muttered out, only biting his lip harder when he felt that catlike smirk coiling over Louis’ mouth, gasping a little as he felt slender hands grip at his hips to drag his body closer. It wasn’t until he was dragged over it that he realized the elder was sporting an erection- and that made him twitch and whine even more.

“Yeah?” A husked voice was heard as lips finally parted from his collar and made their way down to the foreign nipples south of the naturally placed two. A tongue darted out to lick over the soft pink, and Harry found himself at a loss for words momentarily. It didn’t necessarily feel any different than a tongue licking over any other part of his torso, but the fact that Louis was licking him at all was pleasurable and overwhelming.

Besides, if Harry couldn’t summon words with a lick to his nubbins, how was he supposed to speak with five slim digits sneaking into the waistband of his pants and boxers to wrap around his swelling cock? The teen let out a shuddering moan, his brows furrowing and heart pounding against his ribs.

His shaft was stroked up and down slowly, Louis’ fist tugging and toying with his erection in all the right places. Harry had to link his arms around the mobster’s neck in an attempt to keep himself from melting, overwhelmed by all of these sensations at once. Lips traveled upward again, laying claim to the younger’s neck and jaw and eliciting more sounds from deep inside the broad chest.

This was escalating quickly. With a painful realisation to the fact that all he wanted to do was slip his cock balls deep into his house pet, he pulled back with a gradual slowdown of the hand hiding in the younger’s trousers. Harry gave a whine of disappointment, and moved to nudge his master’s head with his nose, tucking it gently under his jawline.

“Don’t stop-...” He mumbled softly, his voice lower than ever before. That alone was enough initiative to squeeze the base of the boy’s cock tightly before again pausing in his action.

“I want to fuck you.” Louis wasn’t sure why he said it so bluntly- surely he had more tact than that, but the kid in his lap didn’t seem to mind. Instead, it seemed to be a positive reaction. Harry had shivered, his fingers locking into the back of Louis button down shirt.

“Not like I have much of a say.”

The man on the couch felt his cock shudder in anticipation, shoving the other male right off of his lap and onto the floor as he began to unzip himself, retaining the elegant grace of someone who knew precisely what they were doing. Harry, upon landing with a thud, just watched the exposure with a fire in his eyes, watching as every inch of thick uncut shaft was put on display.

“Don’t have any lubricant around,” Louis began with a hint of amusement in his voice, “so you’d best slick me up right.”

///

Harry wasn’t horrendous at blowing a cock, but he certainly wasn’t a breakthrough porn star either. He was reprimanded often enough for using his teeth, and his movements were a little choppy and unpracticed, but Lou wasn’t really able to complain too fully with those beautiful plump lips stretched around his engorged dick. The boy was enthusiastic on top of it, which accounted for almost every little hum that twisted in the air above him. He’d already gone on and gagged himself once or twice to try and fit as much meat in his mouth as he could, and it had sent his master’s eyes into the back of his head.

“Get up, strip down, and come here.” Harry had never heard Louis’ voice take such a needy tone before. It was mesmerizing. The teen stood, tugging his flannel top up and off of his head to show off his toned upper body, following suit with his bottoms and unders at once. More impressive was the lack of embarrassment or shame as he came forward with his cock bobbing lewdly; taking a seat in a straddle on top of those strong thighs.

Louis pressed two fingers past the boy’s abused lips, dipping them in against his tongue and ordering sternly to have them sucked. Enthusiasm won over again, and once the teen was finished sucking, two fingers slipped underneath the weight of his sac and pressed very gently to the rim of his opening. Harry gave a slight gasp, hips gyrating downwards a moment as he tried to keep control. He was no stranger to ass play. It was generally something he did during his personal stimulation. He rocked and pleaded with large green eyes, eager and ready for what Lou had to offer.

“Such a good, receptive boy.” The mobster mused, swirling his fingers in a circle around the taut hole before pressing the tip of his index inside. Slowly, more length slipped into the kid on his lap, and an appreciative moan escaped below a mess of curls. It was painfully slow, and Harry was nearly ready to complain about what he _needed_ when another finger toyed against the first.

“Good little pet likes being filled up, hm?” Louis prompted, licking his lips as he leaned up to press a gentle kiss to the slightly parted lips above him.

“Yes, Louis-,”

“How about you start calling me Sir until we’re finished?” Two fingers forced apart against Harry’s silken walls, urging an excited moan from the depth of Harry’s chest.

“Y-Yes, Sir!”

His pet was unravelling quickly, Louis noted, eyes grazing over the aching tip of the younger’s cock that smeared precum against his strong belly each time the mobster did something that was groan worthy. He would have to hurry this up or the boy would get off too quickly and Lou would be left to take care of hims - what! No! No! If the boy got off too quickly, damn it, he would sit there and take it like a good pet until his master got off! With a small frown, Louis lifted his arm and wrapped his fingers gently around Harry’s throat, just enough to constrict the boy.

“Are you ready to ride my cock, boy?” He leaned in to husk the words against the curve of his pet’s jaw, eliciting shudders from the younger male.

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’d better ask nicely, Styles, or I’ll put you back in the room all by your lonesome…”

“Please, Sir! I want to ride your big cock!”

Louis had been joking, in all honesty, and if Harry had shied away, he wouldn’t have pushed it unless it proved to be worth it for entertainment, but damn. His cock throbbed against his belly where it lay, the words resonating through his head. Fingers slid from Harry’s neck and down to the boy’s waist as he considered it.

****  
_Please, Sir! I want to ride your big cock!_  


When had the world gone to utopian status?

Louis slowly removed his fingers - he’d managed to get to three before his pet had whispered such breathless hymns into the air - and instead guided Harry’s hips up to rest his glistening cock head against the slick, toyed entrance.

“Go on, pet. Take what you want.”

Harry didn’t disappoint. The boy eagerly began to slip down, his body stretching achingly slow around the girth of the mobster’s cock. He didn’t complain - just whimpered slightly as his body accepted something that was quite larger than the three fingers which had prepped him before finally settling at Louis’ base. The curly lad slumped forward and let out a hot breath against his lover’s shoulder, taking a moment for the twitching in his muscles about the shaft to relax before continuing.

Meanwhile, Louis had rested his head against the large theater seat, his eyes half lidded and lips moving restlessly as the boy settled. Once he was fully seated inside the lanky creature, he attempted to sooth any reservations the kid may have had. He pressed open palms from the base of Harry’s back up to the broad shoulders, squeezing the muscles there and kneading the flesh before trailing down over the corded arms and gripping softly at either wrist. Lou lifted each arm simultaneously, guided them up and loosely wrapped them about his neck.

“Come on, Pet… Don’t keep me waiting.” He murmured lowly, though there was - for once - no trace of impatience or irritation in the biting words. Only a weird and warm encouragement. Harry drew his face back and considered Louis with glazed eyes and dilated pupils before he adjusted his knees on either side of his current lover’s hips and began to draw up the length nestled inside him.

At first, the rhythm was awkward, though it was forgiven as it wasn’t exactly like Harry was a seasoned pro in riding dick (though if Louis had anything to say about it afterward, he would be), but it was completely made up for by the way green eyes would roll back and shut periodically, and how long fingers found fistfulls of chestnut brown hair and tugged when he found a pleasurable spot to guide the master’s cock against - and those noises. High and desperate, monotony broken by a lick to his thick lips or a particularly low swallow. It all had Louis’ senses in overdrive, and for a long while, he let Harry please himself, taking note of each angle the boy seemed to take pleasure in.

The Styles’ heir wasn’t the only one who studied.

Louis leaned in then and rubbed his thumbs soothingly over the boy’s protruding hip bones before he peppered kisses along the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder up to the lobe of his ear.

“Want some help, Kitten?” He hummed against the shell, giving it a long lick and a nibble before pausing for a response. It was an overwhelming yes - a nod with bouncing curls and a slightly strangled noise.

Louis smirked, halting his pet before he adjusted his feet on the ground, gaining leverage he knew he would need in the following events. His fingers shifted forward to curl around each globe of Harry’s ass, and he lifted carefully.

He could feel the excitement humming through the boy’s body as his arms tightened about the mobster’s neck even before he began to hammer up unto the soft, warm heat that _was_ Harry Styles.

The boy positively _wailed_ , crying out praises and pleas to the ceiling as Louis pounded him into the status blithering mess would fall under. He had taken into consideration the angles aforementioned, and was using them to Harry’s benefit. Every last thrust struck home or was damn close to doing so, and he was pretty sure the curly lad wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.

That was perfectly fine though. If he was being completely honest, he was on his last lap himself.

His fingers dug into the plush ass, squeezing and chancing a slap here and there, drawing groan after delicious groan from the swollen lips attempting haplessly to contain them.

Somewhere in the background credits to a movie neither of them couldn’t care less about scrolled by to a ripped track of classical music.

“How is it, Harry? Full enough to burst?” His words were deviously taunting against the shell of Harry’s ear, and for a moment, the master wondered if the kid was even able to hear it over his overwhelmingly vocal performance. He was pleasantly surprised when a guttural voice choked out a ‘Yes, Sir!’, and to show his appreciation, Louis sped his hips just _that_ much more.

Before the master could chance another raunchy phrase, the boy in his lap went completely silent and tense, tossing his head back and burrying his fingers in the layers of soft brown.

Louis hadn’t even had the chance to touch the kid’s cock. And sure, it was probably scraping against his stomach and whatnot - but _still_. Harry had come from the pounding alone. That combined with the way the younger’s hold tightened and constricted around him had the boss spilling into the warmth with a low growl, digging his nails into the plump and leaving dark red marks over pale flesh.

When they came down, it was almost magical. For a second, Louis was content with being Harry’s equal, and he actually offered a small smile before pressing his forehead against the teenager’s. Something about this act - one that he had taken part in countless times - seemed different with Harry.

He would later call it an after effect of amazing sex or a gas leak, but Louis stayed with the boy for the rest of the day, and when night fell and gave way to dreamland, he held the kid close and allowed their limbs to tangle comfortably - he would be damned if it wasn’t the best sleep he ever got.


End file.
